


Dream a Better Dream

by WhiskeyAdams



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1269874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeyAdams/pseuds/WhiskeyAdams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(set sometime after that whole Nate deal that we are all still upset about) Our lanky heroin suddenly finds that she has been ripped from her reality and unceremoniously dropped into one where she is married to Helena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Am I?

**Author's Note:**

> This was the very first fic I ever wrote, back in November. I went back and fixed the issues that were found and pointed out to me before posting it on this sight.

It’s not often that time becomes a question in most people’s lives. Sure, you may ask “What time is it?” but generally speaking, if asked, you can give at the very least the year in which you are living.  But for warehouse agents, where and when tend to go hand in hand, and usually be in question.

Whether they are being removed from bronze incasing after a century, or using a temporal conscious transfer engine to solve a forty year old mystery, issues of time have come to be part of the norm for our agents.

But at least they always had some sort of warning. Then they could set up a guard to protect themselves from the shock of being ripped from your reality and thrown elsewhere. So was not the case for our Myka Bering.

She had thrown herself into work lately, with such fervor it had begun to scare her partner and best friend, Pete Lattimer. She took every case presented to her, investigated every ping that came through, whether Claudia thought it relevant or not. When she wasn’t out in the field, she was working the Warehouse, researching artifacts that she hadn’t personally collected, helping keep things in their proper place, since Leena wasn’t exactly there to do it anymore. She kept herself busy, and the regents didn’t seem to mind. All they noticed was the spike in successful cases and were happy to have the dozens of artifacts Agent Bering had collected safe inside the Warehouse.

But they didn’t see what Pete saw.

Myka threw herself completely into the job. Which he wouldn’t have minded so much, it wasn’t that much different form old Myka, really. If it were not for one tiny detail that was. Myka had seemed to become an adrenaline junkie. Or that’s what he thought at first, anyway. She couldn’t sit still, begun to chase and hit first and save asking questions for somebody else. She became impatient, refused to wait for back up, and sometimes didn’t even tell her partner where she was going.

It scared Pete to realize that Myka had adopted a certain disregard for life. And it didn’t take a genius like Claudia to figure out where it was stemming from. Helena G. Wells.

That gorgeous, maddening, psychotic, Victorian agent had been the root of so many problems for Pete ever since he ran into her in London. She always seemed to have some secret agenda, and after all she had done to the team, and despite what Artie said, Pete still didn’t trust her.

His mistrust was only validated after the case in Wisconsin. HG had called and Myka came running, like she always would. But, as it turned out, HG, or rather, Emily Lake, had set up a nice, little, cozy life for herself. And, in Pete’s eyes, once HG had gotten what she wanted from Myka, she tossed her back into the wind.

That’s when it started.

It was true. To Myka, the B&B was just feeling too empty these days. No Leena, no Helena… So, to keep herself from going mad with the grief of another broken heart, Myka had thrown herself into work. She let herself be consumed by it. Wanting to spend as little time in the places that held memories of HG as possible.

It wasn’t as if one day she woke up and decided to end her life. It was a slow, gradual thing that snuck up and swallowed her whole. And it wasn’t that she wanted to commit suicide, she just no longer cared if she lived or died at the end of the day.

It’s here that our story begins, with several pings and a vibe. Both happening simultaneously, but noticed by two different people.

Claudia spun in her chair, the incessant noise behind her causing brief anxiety, “Frack, please don’t be broken please don’t be broken.” She said, typing madly away on her key board. The program was supposed to alert her when something weird happened and most likely involved an artifact that had yet to acquisition.

Only, it seemed as if it were glitching. She was getting twelve, no make that thirteen pings at once, all localized to with in the same square mile of each other “What the heck?” she asked the machine, which only continued to whir in response.

“What is it? Got a ping?” Myka asked, leaning over the young agents chair to stare at the screen, though, if she were honest with herself, the computer stuff was Claudia’s area of expertise. And she was content to keep it that way, seeing as she couldn’t decipher half of what was flying across the screen.

“Yeah,” she nodded, gulping, “Yo! Papa bear! You might want to see this!” she barked over her shoulder.

With a crash and a low curse, Artie made himself known as he joined the two women in gawking at the screen, “What is it, Claudia? Can’t you see I’m-?” he pulled up short as his jaw dropped, “Myka, buzz Pete, tell him to be ready to leave immediately.”

It turns out the Farnsworth that Myka pulled out was unnecessary, as Pete stumbled through the umbilicus, a panicked expression on his face, “What happened?”

“What, have you developed super hearing, Agent Lattimer?” Myka rose an eyebrow at him, pocketing her device once more, “We were just going to call you.”

“What?” He looked at her, slowly walking towards her, relief clear on his face though fear was still dominant, “No, I, uh, got a vibe. A big one. And I, uh,” he didn’t know how to tell her that he was afraid. The vibe that had hit him was almost as strong as the one he had gotten before his father died. He had thought something had happened to his partner.

“Are you two done talking?” Artie demanded, “Because you need to be on a plane now.”

“What is it Artie?” Myka turned her attention back to the senior agent, and Pete was glad to no longer be under that too perceptive gaze of hers.

“Thirteen artifacts,” he said, writing madly on the notebook in his hands, “They’ve all been pinged together.”

“What does that mean?” Pete stepped forward,

“It means, or at least I think it means,” Claudia didn’t look up from the screen, “That someone is trying to move a whole bunch of artifacts. To sell or to use, I don’t know…” she trailed off.

“You think it might be one of Sykes’s old guys?” Pete asked.

“It could be,” Artie spoke sharply, “There are still quite a few highly dangerous artifacts that we’ve yet to recover. So we need to act now.”

“Sure, sure,” he nodded, “But where are we going?”

“Anchorage, Alaska.” Claudia and Artie spoke in unison.

“Alaska?” both agents exclaimed, staring at each other in mild disgust and confusion.

“Pack something snuggly.” Claudia suggested with a tilt of her head.

* * *

When the agents reached the abandoned building that they figured out held the artifacts, they paused for a moment to stare at one another. Teslas drawn and pointed at the floor, secret service training still dominant in them. Their breath fogged out around them, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. But each could taste the determination that hung over them.

They were so ready to be done with everything that had to do with Walter Sykes, and if what they thought was behind this barn door actually was waiting for them, it was one huge step towards moving on with their lives.

They nodded to each other before turning and kicking the door in.

“Secret service!” Myka called out instinctually.

“No one move!” Pete growled low at the two men staring questioningly at them, each holding an automatic weapon to their chest, “Drop ‘em.” He barked again.

The two thugs must’ve been smarter than they looked, because they both complied, dropping the guns to the floor and bringing their hands up in front of them.

“Got ‘em?” Pete asked his partner without turning to look at her.

“Got ‘em.” She nodded, finger resting lightly on the trigger still.

Pete holstered his tesla, keeping a hand on the butt of the weapon as he walked warily to the closer of the two men. He had him turned around and the first of the cuffs clicking into place when the second man darted, clearly not as smart as previously thought.

“I’ve got him!” Myka called with a predatory smile as she took off after him.

All around the barn, shelves with odds and ends stood, resembling a smaller version of the Warehouse. There was clearly more players at work then the agents had thought. If all of these objects were actually artifacts… well there were hundreds of them, God only knows what all of them did.

The man dashed around the corner of an aisle, and Myka pushed herself to run faster, despite her lungs protesting the frozen air that assailed them. When she reached the edge of the row however, the suspect was nowhere to be seen.

Myka spun this way and that, but all she could hear was Pete talking in a low tone to the captured subject. When she finally heard a noise, it caught her off guard, causing her to react a moment too late. Where she had been waiting for a rustling sound, or footsteps, the low creaking that went through her ears like nails on a chalk board caused her to jerk back, but not soon enough.

The ten foot shelf beside her had already teetered, and now crashed down upon her.

* * *

She gasped, dropping the tooth brush I her hand and quickly stepping back. It took her a second to calm her pounding heart as confusion set in. She whipped her head this way and that, trying to figure out where she was.

A bathroom, that much was obvious. But she didn’t recognize it, nor did it make any sense. Wasn’t she just running through a barn with Pete? How had she gotten here?

She looked at the pristine white of the tiles on the bathroom floor, at the cream colored walls, at the walk in shower, then the bowl sink before her with the silver spouts. Finally, she looked up at the mirror, at the woman reflected back in it. It was her, but she was not wearing anything she recognized.

She ran her hands over the black silk slip that she wore. It was mostly lace and left nothing to the imagination. She felt a blush creep over her face. She looked back up, realizing she had on dark make up, and her hair fell straight, curtaining around her shoulders and longer than she remembered. That’s funny, she hadn’t bothered putting make up on or getting dressed up in months. Not since-

“Darling? Is everything all right in there?” _her_ voice drifted from the other side of the door, and even so unexpected and out of place, it sent a shiver down Myka’s spine that rested somewhere low in her stomach.

“Helena?” she mouthed at her reflection; pain, confusion and hope all vying for a spot in her expression.

She tiptoed over the cold tile to the door, carefully twisting the handle and pulling the door back ever so slightly, thanking God that it didn’t make a noise. She opened it just enough that she could peer through it while still keeping her scantily clad body hidden behind the door.

Sure enough, Helena was there. Wearing red lingerie that had Myka’s heart doing a funny flip and nearly exploding in her chest. She was sauntering around lighting candles and removing pillows from a large canopy bed. Myka had to struggle to not stare at HG’s ass, or watch the way her hips swayed to music she could hear softly playing. But she couldn’t keep her hungry eyes from devouring every inch of the woman before her.

She pulled back suddenly, closing and locking the door.

She began to pace the length of the small bathroom.

“Okay, Mykes,” she chided herself, “Time to wake up. This is no time to be dreaming about HG. You need to wake up.” She slapped her cheeks lightly, squeezing her eyes tightly shut before squinting them open experimentally. She groaned in frustration when she realized she was still in the bathroom.

What was going on?

“Myka, darling, really,” HG pleaded from the room, “We really mustn’t waste a free night when we are so rarely given them. And I do seem to recall a certain Agent Bering agreeing to give me her full attention tonight.”

Myka gulped at the sound of her sultry voice, wanting nothing more than to give the woman out there whatever she wanted. But she knew she couldn’t.

“None of this is real.” She put her back down the wall and slid to a sitting position, “Come on, Myka, come on.” She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, hard enough to draw blood, but still she was not waking up.

“Not asleep?” she asked herself, “Then what the fuck happened?


	2. Now is Not the Time

Sometimes in life, moments that last only seconds, can stretch on for an eternity. Pete wasn’t sure why that was. Why a thirty minute drive home sometimes passed in the blink of an eye, or why sometimes things seemed to slow down so he could see every detail making up the frame of time surrounding him.

He was sure Myka and her encyclopedia brain could tell him why that was, if he would only ask. But he hated asking her questions. That look she would give him, disbelieving and incredulous, as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t actually know the answer. But he wasn’t the one to grow up in a bookstore, and sometimes Myka forgot not everyone was as well read as she was.

The point was, as soon as Pete saw movement from the corner of his eye and turned to see what it was, time slowed down enough so that he could appreciate every millisecond of it. It also served to torture him, because while in his mind things were whizzing by at a million miles an hour, his body was frozen, unresponsive to his internal commands to _move_.

He watched as the first shelf fell, starting a domino effect around the barn that seemed never ending. He heard each and every crash as things fell to the ground. His eye was drawn in particular to watching as what looked like a child’s miniature carousel, all colors and mirrors, slip and fall from its place. It met its fate on the dirt covered floor as one of the white horses snapped from its place, and the mirrors shattered.  He was given a front row seat to watch everything in front of him tumble to the ground. Then the dust kicked up around him and time resumed its normal pace.

The vibe came like a sucker punch to the stomach, his heart was in his throat and his stomach dropped out to his feet.

“Myka,” he croaked, still not completely in control of himself, he coughed the dust from his throat, “Myka!” he shouted again, voice raising in pitch with worry.

He was met with eerie silence. “Myka!” he called, still receiving no response from his partner.

He felt sick, dread creeping through his veins as he turned to his prisoner, still on his knees next to him. Pete brought his boot up to the man’s back, shoving him to lay on his stomach. “Don’t move.” He ordered before turning back to the destruction.

Pete was so wrought with worry, he barely had the sense to rip the purple gloves from his back pocket and snap them on before he was throwing things out of the way with complete and utter disregard for what he was picking up, and where it was landing after he threw it. All he was worried about was finding his best friend.

He shoved artifacts and shelves out of the way, trying to recall where he saw the first shelf come down at. To Pete, it felt like an eternity before he reached the epicenter of the wreckage, but really it was less than five minutes.

He was about to give up, change directions, now not so sure this was where it had begun, when he saw a flash of pale skin. It was her hand, reaching out from beneath yet another a grey, industrial shelf. Pete lifted it quickly, carefully, not wanting to harm her further.

She was so still, curly hair covering her face, half her body still buried in objects that had been thrown from the shelf. He didn’t want to check for a pulse, a breath… he was too afraid of what he would find. Or, more accurately, what he wouldn’t find.

He finished uncovering her before he knelt carefully to his knees next to her. He touched her hand, and found it cold.

 _Don’t be stupid,_ he berated himself, _of course her hand is cold, it’s freezing here. Feel for a pulse!_

With fumbling fingers, Pete brushed the hair from Myka’s face and neck. His hands trembled as he placed his first two digits where he knew a heartbeat should be felt.  He stopped breathing, waited, and prayed, until finally he felt it. Light, but steady.

He swallowed tears of relief as he took a moment to be glad of such a simple thing, a heartbeat. He watched her chest rise and fall slowly, as if she were in a deep sleep.

Pete gathered her up into his lap, holding her tight to his chest as he worked to get his feet beneath him. He kept her cradled in his arms, knowing that if she had been awake, she would have hated it, never one to enjoy close contact with anyone. But he took comfort in feeling her slow breath on his neck.

After stumbling a few times, but never falling, he made it to where he had left the man he’d cuffed, near the entrance to the barn. He noticed, however, that the man was nowhere to be seen. His cuffs rested alone, glinting at him from where they lay on the floor.

“Damn it,” he breathed harshly before lowering Myka gently to the ground. He removed his jacket, folding it beneath her head.

He drew his gun, not his tesla. He wasn’t in the mood to stun anyone, no. If he was shooting, he was shooting to kill. But it was quiet. No voices, no footsteps, no sound at all save the screaming wind and the rocking of the barn door that hung loosely on its hinges.

“Damn it!” he shouted it this time before putting his weapon away and turning back to attend to his partner.

“Mykes, come on Mykes,” he spoke softly, hands brushing over her face, her shoulders, “Wake up, this is not the time for a nap, Myka.” He smiled.

But she remained unresponsive, and Pete’s stomach turned once more. He gripped her arms a little tighter, shaking her lightly, “Myka? Myka!” he spoke louder.

Myka had always been a light sleeper, waking up at the smallest sounds. Pete knew this from the dozens of plane, train and car rides he had spent with his partner. From all the times it fell on him to rouse her for an update or a new case.

Now, instead of waking up with that adorable groan of hers, she remained limp in his arms. Fear made Pete’s fingers squeeze tighter as he shook her once more, “Don’t do this Myka, come on. Time to get up, let’s go.” Her head rocked back with each jolt.

Pete realized what he was doing and set her down gingerly at once. He stood, pacing back and forth, hands running through his hair over and over.

 _Call for back up, jack ass!_ His mind told him, “Right.” He responded out loud.

His phone shook violently in his hands as he dialed the local sheriff. “This is Agent Lattimer,” he told the woman who answered, “I’m with secret service, my partner and I spoke to your Sheriff about a case we are investigating here. My partner is down. I need an ambulance and back up,” he gave her the coordinates and she assured him that back up was in route before he hung up.

 He reached down to his partner once more, double checking that she was still breathing, heart still beating, before reaching into her pocket and extracting the Farnsworth. He knew he had to call the Warehouse, update them, tell them about Myka… but he wasn’t looking forward to telling someone what happened. It wasn’t that he feared being reprimanded. He feared that speaking it out loud, sharing his worry with the others would mean that it was real and warranted.

He sighed and pushed the red button to connect to Artie.

“Pete,” he said as way of greeting when his grainy face popped up on the small screen, “Have you found the artifacts?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Pete nodded, “A whole barn full of artifact-y looking things.” Pete glanced around him.

“Great,” Artie pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “Box everything up, we’ll sort through them all when you get back to South Dakota. I hope you and Agent Bering don’t have plans for the weekend. Did you get the suspects?”

“Yeah,” Pete shook his head, “They got away.”

“What?” Artie demanded in that scary tone of his, “What do you mean they got away, Pete?”

“I had one of the guys down, and Myka went off to chase the other. I don’t know what happened, all the shelves of artifacts came tumbling down. Myka got knocked unconscious, I think.”

“Where is she?” he heard Claudia ask in the background before she appeared next to Artie, fear and worry evident in her wide eyed gaze, “Is she alright?”

“I think so,” Pete tried to reassure them as well as himself, “She’s out cold, still, but she’s breathing.”

“Get her and the artifacts back home as soon as possible,” Artie ordered sternly.

Pete could hear the sounds of sirens fast approaching, “You got it.” He nodded before ending the transmition.

It was a flurry of activity then. Having to identify himself to the locals that came in, guns-a-blazing, then ordering the paramedics to tend to his unconscious partner. Yelling at the cops not to touch anything without putting on the purple gloves he procured from his SUV.

He cringed as the EMT’s loaded up Myka into the back of the ambulance. She still had yet to stir, and Pete’s vibe still hadn’t subsided.

“Are you coming?” the EMT asked as he followed Myka in.

Pete wanted to say yes. He didn’t want to leave Myka’s side. He wanted to be there when she finally opened her eyes. But he knew the first thing she would ask was if he collected all the artifacts. So he shook his head no, not removing his eyes from his partners still form. The paramedic shrugged and slammed the doors shut.

Pete put on his mask of professionalism. He wasn’t used to it, but it was a trick he had picked up over the last four years watching Myka in the field.

Half a dozen officers surveyed the scene, searching for signs of the disappeared suspects, while six more worked under Pete’s supervision loading all the items into crates. It took two hours to get all the crates secured, and he ordered a deputy to ship the crates to South Dakota.

“I need them there yesterday, do you understand?” he asked the young officer in a level tone.

He nodded before scampering away. He turned to the next available officer, “You,” he barked, and the officer pointed to his chest, “Yeah, you. Officer Reynolds, I need you to take me to whatever hospital the paramedics took my partner.”

The officer escorted him with lights and sirens on, but it still took longer than Pete liked. Not that it mattered, because once he got to the hospital, no one would tell him anything.

“Where’s Myka Bering?” he asked a nurse behind the counter, having been given the run around in three different parts of the hospital.

“I’m sorry Sir, unless you’re a family member, I cannot give you information about a patient.” She said without looking up from her game of solitaire.

“Look here, lady,” Pete struggled to keep his cool as he shoved his badge in the nurses face, “I am Agent Pete Lattimer with the Secret Service and Myka Bering is my partner. So unless you want a whole mess of agents crawling around here, I suggest you tell me where I can find her.”

She looked up at him, shocked at his outburst, “Give me a moment.”

She typed away on the keyboard before lifting the off white phone from its cradle next to her. She seemed to take her time as she pushed in the numbers. “Yes, this is Cathy, I have an Agent Lattimer looking for his partner, Myka Bering? I see. Alright. I’ll send him back.”

She hung up and gave Pete instructions. Go down this hall… turn this way… go to this floor… down another hall… this is her room number. Pete didn’t remember the walk there. One moment he was standing at a reception desk, the next he was at the foot of her bed.

She was hooked up to several machines, one of which was counting out her heart beats. She was so still, so pale… Her left leg was incased in a black brace and her right wrist was wrapped, but otherwise she appeared unscathed.

“You are Mr. Lattimer?” a voice asked from the door.

“Agent,” he corrected, then thought better of his tone, “Pete. I’m Pete. How’s she doing, doc?”

The grey haired man stepped through the door and moved to check Myka’s vitals, “I’m not going to sugar coat it for you, Agent, your partner is, as far as we can tell, in some kind of coma.”

“A c-coma?” Pete stammered, “Did she hit her head?”

“As far as we can tell no. The EMT’s said she had shelves collapse on her?” he looked down at the charts, “The CAT scans were all clean, she dislocated her wrist and fractured her leg, some abrasions on her palms, but there was no brain injury that we could detect.”

“So what’s wrong with her” Pete demanded, “Why is she in a coma?”

“I’m afraid we don’t know the answer to that, Agent.” He finally looked up at Pete, his blue eyes full of concern and empathy.

“But she’s going to wake up, right?” Pete said, moving to stand by Myka’s side, gripping her hand tightly between both of his.

“Honestly, Agent, only time will tell. There’s nothing we can find keeping her unconscious, she just has to decide to wake up on her own. All we can do now, is sit and wait.”

* * *

Myka knew something was wrong. That much was obvious. She couldn’t figure out what though, and time was running out for her to do so.

“Think, think, think,” she ordered her brain, tapping on her forehead with each syllable. “Okay, you were with Pete, in the barn…” things grew fuzzy from there.

“Myka, are you all right?” Helena knocked softly on the door and Myka’s heart beat unevenly in response.

Myka knew she wasn’t going to get any answers sitting on the bathroom floor, and Helena wasn’t going anywhere, she was going to have to face her sooner or later.

She gulped, rising to her feet and brushing her hands over the fabric covering her once more, suddenly very nervous to see the woman waiting on the other side of that door. The last time she saw her, she was telling her good bye. Well, not exactly, since Agents Bering and Wells never said good bye, not to each other.

But the last time she saw HG, she had picked Nate over her. And Myka knew that wasn’t a fair assessment of what happened, but that’s what it felt like.

Now anger and indignation took the place of nerves and excitement.

Myka strode to the door and wretched it open. She nearly lost her resolve when she found the Brit leaning against the wall, waiting for her with a seductive grin, “It’s about bloody time,” she groaned as her eyes slowly surveyed the scene before her.

Myka shook her head, forcing her eyes to remain on HG’s face, though it wasn’t really any less distracting than her body, “What’s going on?” she asked, pissed that her voice wavered as she asked the question.

“I do believe,” the Victorian agent stepped towards her, “That you were in the midst of explaining to me in great detail what you were planning to do to me now that we actually have the house to ourselves for once.”

“What are you talking about?” Myka shut her eyes, trying to stop the temptation she was feeling to give in to the need she felt boiling inside of her.

“Really, darling, now is not the time to play coy.” Helena chuckled and Myka felt hands close around her hips, felt the breath of the shorter woman brush her neck.

Myka swallowed thickly before she grabbed the hands in hers and reluctantly removed them. “No, HG, I am honestly confused, where the hell am I? How did I get here? How are you-?”

She felt Helena pull back slightly and she opened her eyes to gauge the woman before her. Brown eyes showed nothing but concern as she looked over the agent. She brought her hand to Myka’s head, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

“Yes. No,” Myka shook her head clear, “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.”

“Come on, come sit down,” Helena intertwined her slender fingers with Myka’s, pulling her towards the bed.

“No.” Myka planted her feet, knowing that if she allowed herself to sit in the bed, she would lose that last bit of self-control she was clinging so desperately to. Instead she remembered how she had left things with HG. How the older agent had left without so much as a word. How worried she had been and how much she had missed her. Only to find that HG had moved on with her life, leaving Myka alone once more. She had always been good at that. “I don’t want to sit down, I need to go to the Warehouse, I need to talk to Artie. I think I’ve been whammied by an artifact.”

“What?” Helena released her hand, sensing a change in her agent, “Darling, what are you talking about?”

“The Warehouse,” Myka repeated, “I need to go to the Warehouse because I am clearly under the effects of some artifact.”

“When did you come in contact with an artifact?” Helena demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I was with Pete, retrieving some of the stolen artifacts,” Myka pushed herself to remember the events that unfolded, but she couldn’t quite recall…

“Peter?” Helena, practically growled between teeth, “I should have known that he would have something to do with you going back in the field… Is that why you weren’t answering your phone today? To busy shooting guns and chasing bad guys with your best friend to talk to your wife?”

“My w-,” Myka felt her jaw pop as it dropped for a brief moment “I’m sorry, my what?”

“Honestly, Myka,” Helena’s voice rose to a shout as she began pacing back and forth across the wooden floor, “I thought the reason you even took this promotion was so that you would be out of harm’s way! Do you even think about us before you go off on these little secret adventures of yours?”

“I’m so confused, I can’t remember anything.” Myka swayed a bit, dizziness washing over her suddenly.

“Fine,” Helena sighed with a shake of her head, “Well go to the Warehouse, find that wretched friend of yours and see if he or his partner can tell you how to fix whatever is wrong with you.” Helena turned and stomped across the room to a long dresser, pulling out a button up shirt and some jeans.

Myka realized at the last moment that HG was changing and turned around, putting a hand on the back of her neck and feeling the warmth there. She looked down at her bare feet, at the black painted nails of each toe, keeping herself distracted from thoughts of a stripping Helena who was just behind her, cursing under her breath.

“Are you going to change?” HG demanded as she buttoned the front of her shirt, “Or do you want to speak to the agents like that, I’m sure Steven won’t mind, though you may distract Peter a little.”

“Right,” Myka fidgeted as she turned, looking around the room. “Where are my clothes again?”

Helena looked closely at her, trying to discern if she was joking or not. When she realized Myka was completely serious, she grew worried. “The closet, darling.” She spoke softly, arms dropping to her sides as she watched Myka glance around the room until she found the door that lead to her closet.

It was while she was changing into more suitable clothing that Myka noticed the ring on her third finger. She bit back a gasp as she brought it closer to her face. Her heart gave a painful thump when she realized it was a wedding band and engagement ring.

“This isn’t real,” she repeated to herself over and over, swallowing tears as she did so, clutching her left hand to her chest, “None of this is real.”

But God did she want it to be.


	3. A Better Place and Time

When one thinks of the perfect life, what they find may be something they never thought possible or probable. Someone who’s allergic to cats, but can’t imagine life without one. Someone who wants to marry the person of their dreams, but finds that it’s not the person to whom they are betrothed that they imagine being with.

That’s the funny thing about people. They think they know what they want, but when they get it, they realize it wasn’t what they expected. So, what then is the perfect life? Perhaps it’s where everyone you love is alive and happy. Or maybe you need just a smidgen of drama to survive every day. A happy medium is what is really needed. Conflict, but that can be solved. Fights that are resolved with hugs or kisses. Fond memories of people who aren’t there anymore.

Myka had no idea what she wanted from life. Not in the long run. Kids were noisy and always covered in something. Pets were too high maintenance. And as for marriage… While she tried dating, nothing ever really stuck, because Myka would always be married to her work. Myka thought she was content with her lot in life. She didn’t have the best relationship in the world with her family, but she loved her work. She felt like she was actually doing things with her life. And at the end of the day, she got to enjoy a drink or hang out with some colleges or friends knowing she had done something that mattered.

Then HG happened.

It’s not like the Victorian agent did something spectacular. There was nothing that Myka could look back at and say, “That’s it, right there. That’s how she changed me.”

No, but since meeting the inventor, Myka found herself unsatisfied. Wanting something more at the end of the day. She wanted something to come home to, someone who she could talk to at the end of the day about a case or whatever was bothering her. To laugh at some ridiculous thing Pete and Claudia did and have someone join her. She often found this line of thinking lead back to Helena.

It used to be that if Myka wanted something, she found a way to get it. She was smart, tactful and stubborn. But with Helena, all her bravado fell away and she was lucky if she could think clearly for longer than two seconds when near the older agent.

She’d always hoped to have _something_ with the British agent. At first, her friendship had been enough. Solving cases and having someone who understood her that she could turn to had been more amazing than she could have ever imagined. And it soon became clear to the agent that it wasn’t enough. The hours spent researching, cataloging, finding artifacts and unravelling mysteries together was no longer sufficient enough to sate Myka’s appetite for HG Wells.

She’d always wanted more with her, but never, even in her wildest dreams, did she imagine being married to the artisan. It just wasn’t plausible in her mind. Helena was so damaged by her past, she trusted next to no one, and from what Myka understood, trust was pretty important to make a marriage work. And besides, same sex couples were still banned from marriage in South Dakota. So she had never even bothered to entertain the idea.

Now, looking down at the glimmering jewel on her finger, Myka thought about it. And she liked the idea, the feeling of warmth it caused in her chest. She wished with all her heart that she could believe for more than one second that this was all possible.

But she just couldn’t.

She wiped the tears from her face and swallowed the lump in her throat before dressing herself. She emerged from the closet feeling a bit foolish but doing her damnedest not to show it. Of course, having been married to her for some time, Helena noticed, but chose not to say anything, worry for her agent overshadowing her humor. So she just waked around and extinguished all the candles she had only just finished lighting.

Helena instead cleared her throat, waiting for green eyes to meet hers, “Shall we go then?” she motioned for the door that lead out of their bedroom.

Myka nodded and moved for the door. The hallway was dark, and she couldn’t find the switch to the light so she just started walking, “Shit,” she hissed as her thigh came in contact with the sharp edge of an end table.

She heard rustling somewhere in front of her before she was suddenly knocked flat on her back, heavy pressure pushing into her shoulders as hot, foul breath washed over her face.

“Get it off!” she shouted, panicking and trying to shove whatever it was off of her.

“Myka?” Helena called as she flipped the light switch.

The dog abandoned her and walked to HG, tail wagging and asking to be petted. “What the hell is that?” she wiped the drool from her face with the back of her hand, rising quickly to her feet.

“It’s just Pongo, dear,” Helena, knelt to wrap her arms around the Dalmatians neck, “And he wouldn’t jump on you if you walked him more often, like you assured me you would when you convinced me to buy him for you.”

“A dog,” Myka bent over, placing her hands on her knees, trying to get her breathing and heartbeat to return to normal, “I have a dog.” She shook her head, certain now that this was most definitely not real. How could it be? No matter how much Myka loved Trailer, she did not herself ever want a dog.

“You don’t remember Pongo?” worry washed over Helena’s expression once more, “On our third date we saw him in the window of a pet store and you fell head over heels for him. He reminded you of some childhood film you enjoyed.”

That didn’t sound like Myka. She wasn’t one who walked around admitting she still liked Disney movies. She couldn’t see herself doing that, even with HG.

The dog padded over to her once more, sitting at her feet, prodding her limp hand with a wet nose, whining softly. Myka rolled her eyes and gave in to his demands for attention.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” she shooed the dog away who had begun licking her hand enthusiastically, “Can we go figure out what’s wrong with me now?”

Helena reached into a hall closet and pulled out two coats, Myka looked at her questioningly, “It’s quite cold outside, love, you’ll want to put this on.”

The brunette agent sighed, but gave in to the silent commandment in the other woman’s gaze, shouldering into the coat and buttoning up the front. Helena silently led her down a flight of stairs and through a living room before she reached the front door. HG opened a key pad on the wall next to the door, quickly punching in four numbers. It gave a beep and she pulled open the door for Myka, motioning for her to walk through it.

She was met with a gust of freezing air that bit at her cheeks, “Why is it so freaking cold?” Myka demanded before she shoved her hands into her pockets. It reminded of her of the trip to Alaska with Pete. That’s where she had been, she remembered, Anchorage, on the trail of men moving a large amount of artifacts. The barn-

“Really?” HG rose an eyebrow at her, “Wasn’t it just this morning you told me it was getting warmer here? I have been a lot of places, Myka, but only you could have convinced me to move to Canada of all places. Only you would pick a place that averages 27 degrees in the winter just because it was located between two parks.”

“Yeah, especially with our history,” Myka shook her head.

“What do you mean, darling?” Helena asked as she turned from locking the door, walking down the steps to the agent’s side, automatically linking her arm through hers as she led her to the car.

“Uh, Yellowstone? You and a trident? Ringing any bells?” Myka watched her face closely for any sign of deception, and she found only honest confusion, “Never mind.” She shook her head, “Why are we in Canada?”

“Don’t ask me, you picked the place,” HG sighed with the sound of many lost arguments behind it, “for the Warehouse.”

“The Warehouse is in South Dakota,” Myka corrected as Helena held the passenger door open door her, “in Univille, not Canada… where exactly in Canada are we?” she put her head in her hands.

Helena sighed as she got in the driver seat, “Kamloops, BC, of all places.” She muttered something more under her breath, but Myka was trying too hard to understand what she was telling her, “Warehouse 13 i-is in _Kamloops_? Why?”

“Warehouse 14,” HG corrected as she began expertly navigating through the streets, though it was all one dark blur to Myka, “And you are the one who suggested the move in the first place. After Mrs. Fredric died and Artie retired. You and Claudia took over and this is the place, you said, this is the place you would build your Warehouse. You know how difficult it was for me to convince the other Regents, by the way, to let you do this?”

“This is too much, can we just not?” Myka waved her hand in the inventor’s direction, “Can we just stop talking about all this nonsense until we get to the others?”

 _Mrs. Fredric died_? That was a hard concept for Myka to grasp, she seemed like such a permanent fixture in the world, it was as if someone told her the Statue of Liberty died. But that wasn’t nearly as difficult as hearing that Arthur Neilson, who never took a sick day, retired.

She just left her head on the window, the cool glass helping relieve her headache some. None of this was real, but it sure felt real.

But if this was reality, shouldn’t it make more sense?

 _Yes, because working in a place full of magic objects with an immortal boss and a 19 th century inventor makes sense._ She rolled her eyes at herself.

“Myka,” Helena nudged her softly, “We’re here darling.”

What Myka hadn’t seen were the tunnels in which HG had to drive through to reach the secret location of Warehouse 14. Unlike in South Dakota where all one had to do was drive through a field long enough to find the place, they wanted the location to remain a carefully guarded secret this time.

So what Myka saw was what appeared to be a modern office building in the middle of an empty field of snow. She closed the door with her hip, and it was only HG’s form grip that kept her from slipping on the iced over path way, “Please, darling, you are worrying me.”

“Let’s just go inside.” Myka suggested, pulling her arm from Helena’s warm hand. She pretended not to notice the pained look it gave HG to have her pull away from her.

There didn’t appear to be a door on the side of the building HG led them to, “If they go around the front,” she explained in a sad tone, “They’ll enter what appears to be an empty law firm. You can only get into the Warehouse if you know how.”

She stopped suddenly, turning to face the glass window that reflected them back at themselves. Myka’s breath caught in her throat at the sight, of how well they looked good standing next to one another, like she always felt they should.

Helena reached out and touched palms with her reflection, “Helena G. Wells.” She spoke clearly, her accent flowing beautifully, and Myka remembered what had attracted her to the woman in the first place. It wasn’t the literature Myka had grown up engrossed with she had helped create, that knowledge came later. It wasn’t even her beauty, that lovely smirk she had as she sized her up, tesla held to Pete’s head.

The way she spoke and how her accent worked with it. Myka was never one to favor one accent over the other, she found many difficult to understand really, but something about the way Helena spoke pulled her in.

The glass opened, sliding up and revealing a long pathway that resembled the umbilicus in Warehouse 13

When they reached the end of the hall, the glass slid back home behind them, trapping them inside. Myka stared at the door before them now, heavy, metal, bunker style with no visible handle, only a lone speaker beside it.

“Well?” HG crossed her arms, “Aren’t you going to let us in.”

It was a test, Myka could sense that this was some sort of test, but she wasn’t sure what it was or why this HG would be testing her. “I don’t know how to-?” she trailed off, looking hopelessly at what Myka was still 80% sure was the product of her imagination.

“Just say your full name, Myka,” HG rolled her eyes, “Please do so quickly before the umbilicus suffocates us thinking we’re intruders.”

“Uh,” she leaned in to the small speaker, “Myka Ophelia Bering?”

There was a low grinding sound before the door clicked open, swinging heavily in ward.

Before them now was a comfy looking area, couches, a small fridge, a long conference table and a corner dedicated, it seemed, to just computer stuff.  One whole wall was a book shelf, every book in order first by the author’s last name, then publication year. Another wall seemed to be pull out drawers for files. It was welcoming but well organized, unlike the Warehouse Myka had grown accustomed to.

“Hey Ladies,” She heard Claudia’s voice drift to them from the techie side of the room, “What brings you two in tonight? I thought you were taking the night off for yourselves?”

Myka looked to the red head, who was just turning in her plush office chair to look at them. Next to her, still engrossed, it would seem, on whatever was on one of the dozens of computer screens, sat a teenaged girl, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, chewing her thumb nail while equally dark eyes flitted from one thing to the next.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” HG demanded, hands on hips and left foot tapping. She had that all knowing smirk, left eyebrow cocked.

“Nothing much, just teaching mini me here some code stuff,” Claudia said, far too innocently for her to actually be so.

The teenager scoffed, “Right, the day Claudia Donavan has anything to teach me, is the day hell will freeze over.” She mumbled the words distractedly and with her nail still between her teeth, but Myka could have sworn she heard an accent.

“Ouch,” Claudia gripped at her chest dramatically, “That really hurt, kid, I thought we were friends?”

“And I thought I wanted you to keep her away from the internet tonight?” HG brought the caretaker’s attention back to her.

“Oh come on, Mum,” the girl spun around, finally facing Agent Bering for the first time, “We’re just having a bit of fun, and at least we’re not messing in the archives.”

 _Mum?_ Myka took a step back involuntarily. She could see it, in the eyes, the hair, the facial expressions, she could see HG in the young girl sitting there.

“Christina,” HG shook her head, fighting a smile, “I’m not kidding, you need to take a break from tinkering around on that thing, and you should not be encouraging, Claudia.” She pointed a level finger at the hacker.

Claudia held her hands up in clear surrender, “You heard her kid, let’s shut it down for the night.”

“Aw, come on,” Christina complained before turning her pleading gaze on Myka, “Mom, tell her she is being utterly ridiculous and that if I’m to be an agent, I should really start learning.”

Myka felt as if she were about to faint, HG caught her before her legs gave out under her weight. _Christina,_ was all she kept thinking, _Christina is here! Christina is alive!_

“Mom’s feeling a bit out of it,” Helena responded to her daughter’s questioning look, “Could you be a dear and fetch Agents Lattimer and Jinks from wherever it is they’ve disappeared to?”

“Sure thing,” Christina said with a shrug as she hopped out of her chair, throwing one concerned look over her shoulder at her moms before disappearing behind another door.

“Christina is alive?” Myka finally asked aloud, “She-she’s alive?”

“Yes,” Helena nodded, leading her wife to the closest sofa, “Christina is alive and well.” She reassured her, “Why wouldn’t she be?”

 _Gee,_ Myka wanted to say, _Maybe because she was murdered over a hundred years ago, which led to you going bat shit crazy?_

But she didn’t say any of that, she just stared blankly in front of her, vaguely aware that she might be slipping into shock as Helena rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

* * *

“Okay, just sign here, here aaaand here,” the nurse pointed to various parts of the form she had just handed Pete.

It was all gibberish to him, as far as he knew he could be signing his soul away. He didn’t care, so long as it would bring his partner back. He signed the lines required and gave the clipboard back.

They had moved Myka back to South Dakota, wanting her to be closer to home, where she could be under the super vision of Dr. Calder. They had figured over the last couple of days that Myka had to have been whammied by an artifact when the shelves fell on her, the problem was they didn’t know which artifact yet.

Of the hundreds of objects collected from the barn, only twenty were actual artifacts, but none held the properties that resembled Myka’s condition. Their best guess was that her attacker had taken the artifact with him before disappearing with his partner.

Claudia and Artie were working 24/7 trying to find some trace of the guy, or some inkling of what the artifact must’ve been. So far, it was all to no avail. Both the suspects and whatever artifacts they may have used were in the wind.

Pete sat heavily in the chair next to his partner’s hospital bed. They had sprung to get her a private room. One with a view, even, but despite the allure of looking over Univille, Myka stayed asleep. Pete had bribed her, tried goading her, even yelling at her, but nothing worked. Myka refused to wake up.

Now what Agent Lattimer really wanted, besides to see his partner’s eyes open, was a stiff drink. He had been so close today to breaking his twelve year dry streak. Myka’s body temperature had dropped dangerously low so suddenly she was rushed into the ER as soon as the chopper landed. The Doctors couldn’t explain it, not that he expected them too. But it was even a mystery to the Warehouse doctor what was happening to Myka.

Pete lay his head down on her arm, “Gees, Mykes, if you were here you would have kicked my ass. I actually walked into the bar and ordered a drink.” He looked up at her closed lids, still half expecting to see the rage in her green eyes, “Don’t worry. I just sat on the bar stool staring at it for an hour before paying my tab and walking away. I’m pretty pathetic right?”

Still there was no response from Myka. Pete had heard, or maybe he read somewhere, that people in comas could hear you speak. But if Myka was listening to him tell her about his moment of weakness today, she gave no indication.

“You need to wake up,” he told her, and not for the first time that day, “Please, Mykes, I need you to wake up. If you don’t, whose gonna go on retrievals with me? Who is gonna keep my ass in line, because you know Claudia and Jinks can’t. Who is gonna remind me of all the stuff in the files that I didn’t read before a case?” he asked her, closing his eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotions he felt, “Who is going to watch movies with me, or listen to my lame jokes? Who will be my best friend if you’re not here?”

He felt the first of the tears slip out from behind closed eyelids, “I was never one for psychology,” he admitted to her, “but I know I have abandonment issues… dead father… mostly absent mother… and my sister who left me first chance she got… please Myka, you’re all the family I got left. I couldn’t survive if you left me to.”

His voice broke, so he stopped talking, just buried his face into the blanket draped over her. His breathing hitched as he worked to keep himself from crying. He blamed his lack of sleep for his emotional state while mentally yelling at himself to man up.

He didn’t hear the door open slowly from across the room, didn’t see the first moments of pain hit the woman standing at the door. But he did look up at the sharp intake of breath as HG Wells dropped her purse to the floor and brought her hand to her mouth. Her brown eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and the dark circles beneath them showed she had had about as much sleep as Pete.

She got one foot into the room before Pete was on his feet and before her. Anger and hatred radiated from him so tangibly, HG could almost feel literal heat from it.

“Get out of here,” He growled.

“Please, Pete,” Helena begged, “Let me see her, I need to- I need to,” her voice caught and it was obvious she was fighting hard not to cry in front of him, “Please, Claudia called me and I was on the first plane here.”

“Claudia,” Pete spat her name as if it were a curse word, “Forget it HG. It’s your fault she’s in here. If you hadn’t…” he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

Instead he took another, threatening step towards the former agent, forcing her to retreat from the room. She looked as if she were in physical pain, but it didn’t affect Agent Lattimer one bit. As far as he was concerned, HG may as well have put the whammie on Myka herself.

“Get out of here, HG, before I do something I really won’t regret.” He warned.

HG’s feet felt as if they had been turned into lead, and her heart turned violently inside of her chest at the thought of leaving Myka. All she had seen was the agent laying so still in that hospital bed… if it weren’t for the machine counting out her heartbeats, she would have thought her dead.

“I’m going to fix this, Pete,” She said suddenly, mind already running at a million miles a second, “I’m going to fix this.”

He shook his head before shoving HG’s bag out with his foot and closing the ugly green door in HG’s face with more force than was strictly necessary.

“I’m going to fix this.” She repeated to herself as she put her forehead to the door, finally allowing a few tears to roll down her cheeks.


	4. Pictures of Friends

It is said that you can judge a person by the friends they keep. Now, I know the person who said it had a bit more flare and fanes than that, but that was about sixteen hundred years ago and had a bunch of words we don’t use anymore. The point is, he was right.

You can look at it in the way that a person is shaped by their surroundings. That they are most like the five people they choose to spend the majority of their time with. And friends are generally chosen by their commonalities with yourself.

Or you can look at it as I like to. If your friends groan and loath to hang out with you. If they have a mini, internal celebration at the news that you can’t make it somewhere. If they fear you or disregard you or think you a bad person, it’s likely to show. If even the people whom you consider friends don’t like you, you mustn’t be a very good person.

A sign of a good person and a good friend, is being willing to sacrifice for them. Time, space, their lives. If a man is willing to die for his best friend, that says a lot about both parties. They don’t care about social norms, whether or not you are in a good spot in your life or not, or if they think you are in the wrong. They will fight for you. It is a rare and beautiful thing to have a friendship in which both are willing to die to save the other.

It’s another thing entirely when someone is willing to kill for you. That’s a sacrifice of innocence, of immortality if you believe in it, of freedom, of peace of mind. That is sacrificing yourself on a level that surpasses willing to die.

It is incredibly interesting to watch what friends are willing to do for one another, without even being asked or questioning why. A friend who has no idea where you went after the party telling your parents that you stayed over at their place after video games. One who will have your back in a fight, even when you two have no hope of winning. The person who defends you, even when you are not around to appreciate it. Friends should care about your wellbeing as much as their own.

Myka Bering had the best friends that anyone could hope for. She didn’t think she did much to earn their love and respect. All she did was be exactly herself.

She and Pete were thrown together after being chosen by a mysterious woman. They were complete opposites. Both alphas, but where Myka followed the facts, relied on knowledge, Pete followed his gut, relied almost wholly on instinct and insight. But because they had to trust each other explicitly in the field, had to believe that their partner would be there for them when they needed them, they began working their way into each other’s hearts. Myka had never had a best friend before, so the relationship she had with Pete was new and weird. He was like the big brother she had never had, or believed she wanted, but unlike her very real sibling, she enjoyed spending time with Pete. She truly cared for the giant man child who somehow managed to make her laugh more than she thought would be possible after losing her last partner and boyfriend, Sam.

What had begun as a female solidarity between Claudia and Myka, being trapped with Artie and Pete all day every day, had shifted, slowly but surely. Claudia had lost her whole family. Sure, her brother had come back to her after twelve years, but he also left her once again for top secret work. Her mother, father and sister died. So her family became Artie, Pete, Jinks and Myka. With the wisdom of a big sister and the fierce protectiveness of a mother, Myka became a key piece in Claudia’s new world. She was confidant and safe harbor, she was the one who reprimanded her and encouraged her. Before Jinks came along, Myka was the closest person to Claudia.

Arthur and Steve had seen the hard work and dedication, the single mindedness she held when closing in on an artifact. She was stronger than most everyone they knew, physically and emotionally. And when they saw cracks in the armor she put around her heart, all they saw was the beauty behind it. Her dedication to the Warehouse and her friends. If Myka’s worst qualities consisted of being loyal to a fault and striving to be the best at her job, as far as they were concerned, she was damn near perfect.

And then there was Helena… What HG Wells saw when she looked into those piercing green eyes of the young agent was her own soul reflected.  Her love of literature and adventure, that beautiful mind of hers that served to only make the beauty of her physical form all that much more glorious… Helena was never one to believe in love at first sight, but even she had to admit that there was something between the two women that began with the electric spark that was emitted at the first meeting of their eyes. Despite everyone telling her she was wrong, Myka always fought for HG. She held a tesla to Pete at their first meeting, left them pinned helpless to the ceiling, abandoned them in Egypt in a pyramid that was slowly filling with sand, tried to destroy the whole world at Yellowstone and held a loaded gun to Myka’s forehead. And Myka never turned on the agent like the others did, for one simple reason, she saw something in HG’s eyes that she thought worth saving.

It was for that utter belief in the inventor’s humanity that changed something in Helena. It’s because of Myka that HG had wanted to change at all. As she held that gun to her head, she realized she didn’t want to kill the woman standing before her, she couldn’t do anything that resulted in her death. Her heart broke, when she thought there was nothing left to break after losing Christina, in seeing Myka after being trapped in the Janis coin and being unable to hold her, to comfort her. Myka’s utter refusal to destroy Helena even if it would stop Sykes is what lead to HG sacrificing herself to save the agent and her friends when the Warehouse exploded. Not that anyone remembered that besides Artie.

After everything she had done over the last four years, Myka had so solidly stitched herself into the hearts of the people who surrounded her, that they couldn’t imagine giving up on her, they couldn’t think of anything they wouldn’t do to bring her back. One of them was even willing to end the lives of others to do so.

Claudia sat in the glowing light of her computer screen. She really should have had the lights in the office on, but she didn’t want to risk any loss of power from the computers, not with the amount of energy she was demanding from it.

So she sat in the dark room, eyes bloodshot and straining to keep themselves open. She was surrounded by mountains of empty redbull cans. Her hands shook though she had ceased to notice. Her legs were numb, not that she had bothered to try and use them. Her stomach churned emptily, having not been given anything in two days but energy drinks and methylphenidate, she didn’t feel the pain or hear the protesting gurgles. All she felt was the nagging feeling in her chest that something was missing.

It had been two weeks since they brought Myka back to Univille, and Claudia had spent every waking moment, working the PHISH and computers over time to find some trace of artifacts or the two men, or maybe the people they were working for… she wasn’t quite sure anymore. All she knew was she had to keep going, keep pushing herself to find something, anything to help the comatose agent.

The picture taped to the main console before her was of a bemused looking Myka and Claudia hugging her tightly from the side with the goofiest smile she could manage. It served to motivate the young hacker, to remind her why she was denying her body of rest and sustenance.

But her eyes were growing heavier and the images of security tapes and lines of code were blurring together. Claudia Donavan had hit her wall, and as her eyes slipped shut and her head rested on the keyboard in front of her, she mumbled softly to the picture, “I’m just going to rest my eyes for a moment.” And quickly fell asleep, dreaming of her family being whole once more.

Arthur Neilson sat on the floor of his office, buried in paper work as he had been for days now. The only times he stopped his relentless reading was to fetch himself more coffee from the pot he had moved in there. He doesn’t know what day it is, or how long he has been sitting in his stuffy office, he was too focused on the task at hand to miss the sun all that much.

He had pulled out dozens of journals, files, books, pouring over every word over and over again, his eyes crossing and straining, causing him sometimes to see double. He only reread the sentences when that happened, never thinking to take a break or rest his weary eyes.

He threw the folder in his hands across the room in a fit of rage, biting back on his shouted cursing. He put his head in his hands, fingers pulling some of his hair out at the roots. He took a breath, then another, knowing anger would not serve him any good in finding anything to help his agent. He didn’t know what would happen to him if he allowed himself to lose another person on the job, most likely it would kill him.

When he removed his hands and opened his eyes, he looked down at the file that had somehow ended up on his lap. He didn’t remember pulling it out, but he didn’t remember much of anything at the moment.

It was Myka’s file. In the span of fourteen pages, the writer of the dossier had managed to reduce the life and achievements of one Myka Ophelia Bering into simple sentences mixed with conjecture.  Her childhood, school records, her time with the secret service, psychologist reviews of her, an incomplete list of the cases she had worked since starting at the Warehouse, all boiled down to an assessment of her value to the Warehouse.

As if something like that could have been measured. It didn’t mention how hard things were for the agent, it didn’t explain why she refused to listen to orders or how hard she worked to get the job done. The story of Myka Bering should have been able to fill a book, possibly several books. But here the writer had managed to cut her down to a name rank and serial number. Just a list of reasons why the Warehouse still used her, and why it possibly shouldn’t.

Grief crashed through the senior agent, realizing that he had written a good portion of what lay inside manila folder. The picture they had paper clipped to the front was about four years old. Her smile was bright and her gaze challenging, possibly smirking at something the photographer said to her just before the picture was shot. It was after the grief of Sam but before the warehouse stepped in and made everything worse. The woman in the photo still had hope in her eyes, something Artie had watch Myka slowly lose.

He lifted the picture from the file, rose on protesting legs, and took it with him to the couch, where he fell heavily.

“I’m so sorry,” he told the photograph, voice tight with emotion, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this when you could have had your whole life ahead of you. I’m…” he trailed off as he gripped the picture to his chest, head falling back to rest on the chair as tears streamed silently down his wizened face. His body gave him the relief of sleep then, knowing the alternative was too much.

Pete and Jinks arrived at their hotel. The trip to Louisiana was another bust, and the two men were bone tired. The snagged bagged and tagged the artifact Mrs. Fredric had sent them to collect, tempting them with the idea that it could have something to do with Agent Bering’s case. One day, Pete knew, they were going to stop falling for that.

Mrs. Fredric had managed to keep them out of the Warehouse and B&B as much as she could. Keeping them on track with finding dangerous artifacts. Because, while she felt deeply for Agent Bering and wanted her up on her feet as soon as possible, other people were in the same danger from other artifacts with all of her agents off the line. She let Claudia and Artie worry about leads for the agent, she wanted to keep Lattimer and Jinks in the field protecting people.

So with some pocket watch that could make everyone a slave to the will of the holder safely locked in a case, Pete and Steve dejectedly checked themselves into another hotel.

Steven was exhausted, worried, and sick to his stomach with the thought of what his best friend was doing without him there to stop her. Jinks loved Myka, but it paled in comparison to what he felt for the redheaded agent. Claudia was to Steve what Myka was to Pete, and then some. Because he and Claudia had been friends almost instantly. He knew how much the other agent meant to the team, and he worried to what extent Claudia would push herself to bring her friend back.

Pete was on a whole other level of emotion. He was tired of being given the runaround by Mrs. Fredric. He was mad at HG for thinking she could just waltz back into Myka’s life. He hated whoever and whatever had taken Myka out of his life. He didn’t care about saving other people, he just wanted to save her. He knew that was a narrow-minded and selfish thought, but he didn’t care.

When Jinks went up to his room for the night, Pete found himself in the hotel bar. He wasn’t thinking, sleep deprivation and a slew of emotions keeping his thoughts murky and his judgment clouded.

“What’ll it be, my friend?” the bartender asked, wiping the counter before the agent and staring expectedly at him. The man thought himself an expert in people reading, usually limited to guessing what drink they were going to order, but he sensed something darker in the man sitting at his counter now.

Pete was quiet. He thought about ordering whiskey or scotch or vodka, anything really to numb the pain. He wasn’t even sure if he had money to pay for enough alcohol to cause him to black out. He retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. He opened it and stopped.

There, staring back at him, was a small picture from a couple of Christmases ago. Claudia with a mug of eggnog snuggling with Trailer at the forefront. Artie with a tray of cookies beside a very much alive Leena. Between her and Mrs. Fredric sat Myka, smiling and eating a cookie despite having told everyone how she doesn’t eat sugar. Pete stood behind her, but he was more focused on the smiling agent. She seemed so happy there. Pete wished he could go back to that moment and relive it over and over.

“Is that your family?” the man behind the bar asked and Pete nodded in response.

He sighed heavily and took the chip he kept tucked inside his wallet. Ten years sober. It had felt like such a huge achievement to him, he even showed it to Myka. It was one of the few times she had initiated a hug with him. He set the chip on the bar where the bartender could clearly see it.

“Just get me a water.” He said gruffly.

“You’re doing the right thing for your family, man.” The bartender nodded knowingly before fetching Pete a glass of water.

By time he turned back around, though, the agent was nowhere to be seen. He had gone up to his room, wanting no audience to his self-loathing. How many times was he going to nearly slip up? Just how weak was he?

He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and praying to God for a dreamless sleep. For once, it seemed like God was listening to him, and he drifted into peaceful blackness.

The end of that day found sleep for everyone. Offering peace, if only for a few hours, to the people working so hard to bring Myka back. Everyone, that is, except HG Wells.

She had come to accept that rest would not find her. Not until she saw Myka open her eyes once more. Pete had given her picture to the people at the hospital, excluded her from the visitors list. But Helena didn’t know that. After being exiled from the hospital room, she swore to herself she wouldn’t return until she found the man responsible for her condition.

She hadn’t slept since she got a call from Claudia. It had confused her, as she lifted Emily Lake’s phone from her pocket, to see a number she did not recognize.

“Hello?” she asked, politely.

“Who is this?” a voice she almost recognized asked.

Normally HG would have hung up the phone, believing that the caller should at the very least know who they were looking for. But something in the hushed tone of the voice kept her listening.

“This is Emily Lake, may I ask who is calling?” HG responded, stopping in her steps.

“Fantastic, cut the crap HG and listen up.” HG suddenly recognized the voice of Claudia Donavan, she was speaking low, and quickly, but she could understand her, “Myka is in the hospital. Don’t ask questions because I don’t have the time or information to fill you in right now. I just thought you’d want to know. She’s been in a coma for a couple days, they’re moving her back to Univille. They can’t figure out what’s wrong with her…” Claudia kept talking but HG was no longer listening. The phone had slipped through her fingers and fell to the cement, cracking the screen and effectively ending the call.

She didn’t remember the drive to the airport, only arguing with the man issuing flight tickets. Trying to explain to him, to get him to understand why she needed to be in South Dakota now. He insisting it was impossible, and finally had airport security escort her out when she started swearing loudly and threatening him.

It would take her nine hours of continuous driving to reach Univille, but the prospect didn’t deter her. She got in her car and drove. Her stomach felt hollow and her chest ached, she continually had to wipe tears from her eyes and she bloodied a knuckle punching the dashboard, but she made the drive. Stopping only once to fill the tank with gas.

Then she saw her agent, so frail looking and pale. Wrist and leg wrapped. And guilt and sadness were the first emotions to wash through her. Pete was right, this was her fault. If she had only picked Myka that night, spoke to her more often, explained to her what had happened after she left.

Then came a deadly calm, the only things she felt were murderous rage and determination. She would find the man who did that to the woman she loved, and she would make him wish he had never been born.

She didn’t expect help from the Warehouse agents, so she didn’t ask. She did however, keep a close eye on all the progress they were making. Admittedly, it wasn’t much. So she did what they didn’t do. She started where it had begun. In Anchorage. And she worked and investigated, never ceasing in her efforts. She would kill the men who did this or she would die trying.

LINE BREAK

“What’s your name?” Dr. Calder asked as she shone a light in Myka’s eyes, watching them dilate with the changing stimuli.

“Myka Ophelia Bering.” She responded in a flat tone, still trying to come to terms with Christina being alive. And not only being alive, but referring to Myka as Mom.

“When were you born?” Vanessa put her fingers to Myka’s wrist, counting out the beats of her heart.

“June 23, 1982, it was a Wednesday, I was born in Colorado Springs.” She recited without thinking, “I’m thirty one years old, my parent’s names are Warren and Jeannie Bering, my sister is Tracy.” She stated these things out loud, wanting to reassure herself with facts she could hold on to, couldn’t be disputed.

“Who is the woman standing beside you?” Dr. Calder watched Myka’s face closely now.

“Helena G. Wells.” Myka looked up and HG smiled in response, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes.

“And everyone else in the room?” Dr. Calder tilted her head, eyes squinting ever so slightly.

“Pete Lattimer, Steve Jinks, Claudia Donavan,” she waved to each in turn, pausing for a moment as she looked into Christina’s eyes. The girl tilted her head expectantly, waiting for Myka to say who she was. Her mother’s wife had played a huge role in her life, had been there to help raise her, and now she was watching her mom struggle to speak whenever she looked at her, “And that-that is Christina Wells.”

Pete was throwing a rubber ball at the wall, wanting to get out of the Warehouse as soon as possible. Being stuck on inventory for the last few nights with Jinks had seriously put a dent in his social life. Steve had his arms crossed, leaning in slightly, listening for a note of falsehood in Myka’s voice. Claudia sat on the arm of the sofa to the left of Myka, eyes flitting from Vanessa to Myka, trying to see what the doctor was seeing in her friend.

“And what year is it?” the doctor asked the last of the control questions.

Myka sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, “2013. Can we talk about what is wrong here now?”

Everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing, just stared disbelievingly at the agent. Pete’s ball hit the wall and bounced away, forgotten. “My dear,” Dr. Calder put a hand on her patient’s knee, “It is 2016, not 2013.”

The doctor looked back at the human lie detector, who had a perplexed look on his face.

“Claudia, would you be a dear and take Christina out?” Helena suggested, “Maybe get some ice cream and stop by Leena’s?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Claudia nodded at the same time Christina protested with a “What for?”

Christina complied though, stomping to the door like the teenager she was, with Claudia pushing her shoulders lightly.

As soon as the door shut, Helena began pacing across the floor in long strides. “I knew it, I knew something was wrong. She was talking all sorts of nonsense and acting odd and didn’t remember that we had moved the Warehouse. And she went on asking if Christina is alive!”

“Why did it surprise you that you saw Christina?” Vanessa asked as she rose from her crouched position.

“Because Christina is dead!” the words were a whispered shout with the sound of restrained tears, “I don’t understand how she is here.”

“What are you talking about?” HG demanded, stopping in front of her wife, “It is one thing to say you are three years younger than you are, to not remember certain things, but how could you possibly think that my daughter is dead?”

“Because she was killed in 1899,” Myka refused to make eye contact, “She was murdered by robbers and it’s why you invented your time machine, it’s why you went crazy and tried to start another ice age.”

“Myka, darling, no,” Helena shook her head, “It’s true Christina almost died in 1899, that’s why I begged the regents to bronze us. She had diphtheria. I figured that if we waited long enough, someone would find a cure for the disease and I was right. You freed us from the bronzer six years ago, the only one who bothered to remember my request after a hundred years.” She smiled with a twinkle in her eye.

“So clearly, Agent, your memory has been altered somehow,” Dr. Calder concluded, “The only question now is to figure out how and to what extent.”

“Oooh, get to talk about all of Mykes’ biggest secrets,” Pete pulled up a chair and sat in front of her.

Myka felt a migraine coming on at the antics of her childish partner, even an imagined Pete, it seemed, was annoying.

But what if it wasn’t imagined? What if she was really here and all of this was her real life?

No, no it couldn’t be.

Could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The quote I was referencing in this chapter was “Every man is like the company he wont to keep”, spoken by Greek philosopher and poet, Euripides, who lived from 480bc-405bc. I guess that’s what happens when I decide to write through my Philosophy class rather than, I don’t know, take notes for my final?
> 
> AN2: Methylphenidate is ADHD medication that is a really strong stimulant that some college students use as a study aid. This writer does not condone or suggest such usage, please be like me and just use Redbull coffee mixtures. Drug abuse is a serious issue and trust me when I say it ruins people’s lives. Please do not misuse ridilin or Adderall while studying for your finals, just space your studying and get a lot of sleep.
> 
> AN3: Oh, and time does move slower for Myka, I don’t know why, that’s just what happened. I picked a random day for her birthday, because it only says she graduated from high school in 2000, so I subtracted 18 and got 1982. So if anyone can tell me her real bday that’d be fantastic.


	5. Fact is Almost Always Stranger than Fiction

Humans are fallible. Much as they like to pretend otherwise, they can be deceived, they can be wrong. Human perception of reality doubly so.

Everyone has had those dreams that are so real, so tangible, that you believe them whole heartedly. Whether they are terrible or phenomenal, they become your new reality, and you accept them as such. And when you wake in the morning, the first of the sun’s rays falling across your face, you are stunned. And sometimes, at random points throughout the day, you have to stop and remind yourself that what you remember isn’t real. It never really happened.

For some it’s a relief, they touch places on themselves to make sure they’re still whole, the arm they could have sworn the monster tore away. They comfort themselves in knowing that their loved ones are still alive and well. They use this experience as a reference, even. _It could be worse._ And they go on living their lives until another nightmare consumes them and dredges up doubt once more.

For others, the peeling back of sleep encrusted eyes causes more heart wrenching sadness then should ever be caused by a dream. A dream so beautiful, so perfect, holding all of your hearts desires… and you wake to the realization that none of it was real. They must go back to their normal lives without the happiness they imagined. They will spend the day, perhaps even the next several days, thinking back to the dream, having to remind themselves it hadn’t been real after all, and suffering the pangs once more.

Myka’s dreams almost always contained her friends, the people she loves. In the good ones, they are all happy, whole, alive and together once more. Pete never gets that sad look in his eye, Claudia doesn’t have nightmares of the insane asylum, Artie isn’t choked by grief, Leena is still alive and looking after them all, and she has Helena by her side.

In the not so good ones, she’s trapped in that chair again, only instead of having her own head split open on a blade, she is forced to watch Walter Sykes march into the chamber each and every person she has ever cared about. She watches them die one by one, unable to move to save them, begging to take their place. When he finally gets down the line and reaches Helena, that’s usually about the part where she wakes up in a cold sweat, screaming into her pillow.

In the last year she has had more and more of the latter, and despite the repetitive nature of the dream, she believes it real and each and every time.

So, why then, was she having such a hard time believing what they were telling her to be true now? Then again, maybe that’s not such a surprise. She always trusted bad news faster than good news.

“I can feel you all staring at me.” Myka’s groan was muffled by her hands still pressed firmly into her face.

She hated the attention, it was as if they were all waiting for her to go off the deep end, start professing the end times or say she met Jesus on a lunch break that day. They were making her feel more insane than she already did.

“Well that’s because you’re not talking.” Pete said expectantly, “Tell us what is going on in that computer brain of yours.”

“What do you want me to say?” Myka glared at him, finally uncovering her face, “That I feel like I am losing my mind? I don’t remember or believe half of what I am hearing from you, and I have this nagging feeling like there is something I am forgetting…”

She still could remember all the pieces leading up to her being here. Pete, her, the barn. He had one suspect down and the other… ran? Did she chase him? She must have, right? She wouldn’t have let a suspect get away.

 She groaned internally, she hated this feeling. It was like trying to remember where she put her keys the night before, or remember the name of some kid she went to school with but never really spoke to, or the lyrics to an old song she used to know so well… it was there, she was right there, right on the cusp of remembering what happened, but it was like fog in her mind.

“Oh, like that time we woke up naked in bed together?” Pete asked, not helpful in the least bit and knocking Myka off her train of thought yet again.

He was referring to the time they had come into contact with W.C. Field’s juggling balls, simulating them being drunk. They had ended up bronzing Steve and fooling around with the artifacts. And when they woke up, they couldn’t remember how they had gotten there or where Steve was or why they needed Artie’s toothbrush.

Myka took comfort, albeit a rather uncomfortable comfort, in knowing that memory was still there, intact, and that this Pete verified it was real. Then she felt the heat reach her face, embarrassment and anger.

“When you what?” HG blanched.

Myka reached out and smacked Pete in the arm, “No! Not like that.” Myka bristled, wishing she could hit Pete harder. He just had no filter or common sense sometimes.

“Please, do go on about how you shared a bed with _my wife_ ,” Helena crossed her arms, anger dominant on her face once more as she tapped her foot and stared Pete down, “This is your fault, you know.”

“Me?” Pete pulled back, putting his hands to his chest, “How is this my fault?”

“You convinced her to go out in the field with you, you’re always putting her in danger,” Helena exploded with what sounded like years of resentment behind her words, “And now, she has been affected, yet again, by an artifact!”

“Hey hey hey, I did not take Myka anywhere today!” he complained, “She had me and Steve on inventory duty all day! I only saw her when she brought Christina by!”

“She told me she went out with you!” HG protested.

They both turned to stare expectantly at Myka, who had been getting dizzy watching the two bicker back and forth. Myka laced her own fingers together, putting the knuckles of her thumbs to her lips, staring off into space and working to organize her own thoughts.

“First of all,” she began, unaware why she felt the need to defend herself to someone who wasn’t even real, “Pete and I were under the effects of several artifacts at the time that happened, and we only went to sleep in the same bed as each other so that we would know something happened because we both knew we would never actually ever sleep with each other. _Ever._ ”

“Ouch, Mykes, ever?” Pete feinted at being hurt.

HG and Myka both hit him now. And he cried out in pain. “She’s telling the truth, if that matters.” Jinks added quietly, while taking a step back so as not to get hit by either woman.

“And I did go out with Pete, to some barn… some where it was snowing… Alaska?” if anything, it felt like it was getting harder for Myka to remember things.

“She’s telling the truth,” Jinks said, “Or at least thinks she is, because Pete really was here with me all day.” He focused his gaze on Helena first, and then the doctor.

 _What does any of that matter if today isn’t even the day that I remember? If none of this is real?_ She felt part of her brain continue to question everything happening around her, leaving her skeptical and paranoid.

“Look, none of this is real, okay?” Myka insisted out loud, “Nothing is really how you guys are telling me it is. And I’m not just talking about Christina, okay? Everything is… different.” Her shoulders slumped as words and thoughts continued to fail her.

“Then explain to us what you do remember, Myka,” Dr. Calder seemed to be the only one keeping clam in the room, so Myka focused her attention on the doctor’s kind face.

“First off, I am absolutely sure that it is still 2013,” Myka began, voice full of unwavering confidence. Vanessa simply nodded in response, encouraging her to continue, “The Warehouse is still in South Dakota. Like I was saying before, Christina was murdered in 1899, and that made HG go all crazy, and the regents had to bronze her because it was their only way to stop the destructive path she was on.”

HG sat back on the couch by Myka, her heart hurting at the mere thought of something so horrible happening to her daughter.

“Look, you did a lot of awful things, do I have to go into detail?” Myka asked her.

Helena began to shake her head no, not wanting to see Myka in any more pain, but it was the Warehouse doctor who answered her, “Yes, dear, it may be difficult, but it may also help your correct memories return, or help us figure out what artifact you are under the effects of.”

“Okay, okay,” Myka closed her eyes as she nodded her agreement, “So HG was released from the bronzer and tricked us into thinking she only wanted to rejoin the Warehouse. She was really working to find the Minoan Trident so she could destroy the world with another ice age.”

“But why would I do that?” Helena shook her head.

“You had lost your daughter and entered the bronzer hoping to come out in a better time, but this is reality and that didn’t happen… Grief does funny things to a person,” Myka lost herself for a moment, staring at nothing in particular as she went back to that moment in time, “But you didn’t. I stopped you from destroying the world by forcing a gun in your hand and putting it to my head.”

HG Well’s body gave a shudder at the thought of doing such a thing, but Myka kept right on going, “The regents took you away and put your personality in the Janis Coin while your body walked around as Emily Lake. Then things went to hell.”

“That wasn’t hell already?” Pete’s voice rose in indignation.

“A man named Walter Sykes tried to destroy the Warehouse. He killed Steve, tried to kill HG, and apparently he put a bomb in the Warehouse…”

“Wait, I’m dead?” Steve’s eyes doubled in size and his mouth hung open, “How come Pete can’t be the one who’s dead?”

“HEY!” Pete protested.

“Don’t worry, Claudia saved you,” Myka waved him off, “The problem is that Sykes apparently succeeded in blowing up the Warehouse, and Artie had to use an artifact to go back and change it.”

“Artie?” Pete laughed, “Arthur Neilson misused an artifact?”

“He didn’t misuse it,” Myka snapped without thinking, “Sykes had destroyed everything, Pete. Not just the Warehouse either, think about what was in there. He destroyed Pandora’s Box, Pete. He destroyed hope. The whole world was doomed.”

“Okay, alright, jeez,” Pete mumbled, pulling back from his old partner and her anger.

“So he did it, he went back and changed what happened. But it messed with him. He lost his mind, he released the blue poppy that was going to kill everyone in the world, and he killed Leena.” Myka felt fresh tears spill over her cheeks for her lost friend.

“Artie would never,” Dr. Calder pulled back, the first sign of an emotion other than compassion flashing violently in her eyes, “He wouldn’t.” she continued to insist, moving away from the confused agent.

“You dreamed he killed Leena?” Pete’s lip twisted in disgust, “That’s just sick, Mykes.”

“That’s reality.” Myka said, not as a dispute, just a statement of fact that she had accepted. Life sucked, it was sick and twisted and so unfair to the people who were the least deserving of heart ache.

“What else?” Vanessa pushed again, “What else do you remember?”

“HG left the Warehouse.” The still fresh scars on her heart throbbed, “She wanted a normal life, so she up and left. She settled down as Emily Lake, with a man named Nate and his daughter, Adelaide.”

Everyone was silent then, HG had begun to tear up at the pain evident in Myka’s voice. They all just stared at her for a moment, not knowing how to go on from this revelation. Myka and Helena were the dynamic duo. They were Bering and Wells, solving puzzles and saving the day. They were having trouble imagining the two not together.

“Nothing you are saying makes any logical sense,” Dr. Calder was the first to break the heavy silence that had befallen them, “Helena, I think you should call Leena, have her hold on to Caleb for a little longer, we may be here well into tomorrow. I’ll call Artie and see if I can drag him out here to help us figure out what is doing this to Myka.”

Helena nodded, retrieving her cell phone, but Myka’s head had snapped up so suddenly that the inventor had stopped her movement. “What?”

“I thought you understood that Leena wasn’t really dead?” Dr. Calder questioned.

“No, no,” she felt her heart begin to race, “Who is Caleb?”

“Mykes, what are you talking about?” Pete’s hands fell from where they had been resting behind his neck and he stared at her.

“Who is Caleb?” she repeated herself, though she couldn’t hear herself over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears.

“This isn’t funny, Myka,” HG warned.

“I’m not trying to be funny!” Myka shouted, “Who the hell is Caleb, and why should you be calling Leena about him?”

“Myka, Myka, calm down!” Vanessa tried to keep her tone soothing as she put her hands on Myka’s shoulder, “Caleb is your son. You remember him, don’t you?”

“My what?” she felt her body go numb once more, “I don’t have a…” she shook her head, hands falling to her stomach. It was still the flat, muscular torso she remembered, no evidence of ever having been pregnant.

“He’s eight months old Myka,” Dr. Calder offered, but it didn’t seem to break through the thoughts Myka was trapped in, “Leena offered to watch him so you and Helena could have the night off.”

“I couldn’t have had a baby,” she insisted, finally coming back around, “I-I have ovarian cancer, I can’t… I _couldn’t_ have…”

“Yes, dear, that’s why your sister offered to be a surrogate for us…” Helena’s words weren’t processing in Myka’s head. The idea of being a stepmother was one thing, but she never envisioned having a kid of her own. She didn’t think she was cut out for the whole mommy thing. This couldn’t be real then, because Myka had given up on having a baby. Being single and in her thirties with ovarian cancer had pretty much shot that horse in the face.

“Helena, can I talk to you for a second?” Dr. Calder held her hand out to the anxious looking woman.

She rose from the couch, following the doctor to the other side of the room, ignoring Steve and Pete who had nonchalantly followed them over a few feet behind, trying to appear like they weren’t eavesdropping. The two women spoke in low tones, but Myka could still hear them.

“Myka is clearly confused,” Vanessa began.

“I mean clearly, Doctor, she doesn’t even remember her own son, for God’s sake!” Helena hissed, “After all we had done to get him, she denies his very existence.”

“You need to calm down,” the doctor warned in a low tone, “We cannot force Myka into remembering anything. Especially if this is Warehouse related. If we push her too hard, her mind will only continue to reject everything we tell her.”

“Then what do you expect me to do?” Helena demanded, “I want my wife back! The mother of my children is sitting there, raving like a lunatic… I just want Myka back.”

“We have to be careful, introduce her to her reality a little at a time,” Vanessa slowed her voice as if to demonstrate the pace in which they needed to proceed, “We have to be patient… she’ll come back to us, Helena. Take her to see Caleb, maybe seeing her baby will help spark something…”

Myka felt her body seize at the thought of seeing the baby. She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want to know what he looked like, whether or not he had her eyes, she didn’t want to hold him. Because it would just be painful and cruel… because none of this was real.

 _But it could be…_ a voice whispered to her.

“No,” she whispered back.

She was not going to give in to this madness. She had to hold on to herself. How would she do that?  How would she prove to herself once and for all that nothing happening here was real?

She looked to the side table near the couch. It had an unlit lamp and a stack of letters addressed to her. Atop the stack rested the answer. A silver letter opener shaped like a dagger.

“None of this makes sense, none of it is real,” she reassured herself, trying to convince her mind that what she was about to do wouldn’t actually hurt her. Her baser instincts screamed at her to stop. But she shook her head in defiance and held her blade to her right forearm. She felt the sharp edge push against her skin and she hesitated for a moment.

“This isn’t real.” She growled through clenched teeth before finally dragging the blade over her skin.

It may not have been real, but it sure as hell felt real. A fiery heat spread over her arm as blood began to pour from the new wound, spilling quicker than she would have thought possible over her pants, the sofa, the floor… a part of her mind pointed out that it was going to stain while the rest of it was very much distracted with the pain she felt in her arm. And how she wasn’t waking up.

It wasn’t like the dreams she was used to, where you pinch yourself and wake up, realizing it’s a dream. You fall from a building and wake the moment before you’re about to hit… No the blood pouring from her was very much real. The agony she was now feeling past the shock of the blood was very much real.

“Jesus, Myka!” She heard Pete shout, and she looked up stupidly at him, knife still in her hand, right arm still slightly extended.

“Myka!” Helena’s cry reached her next, the inventor’s hand shot to her mouth as her feet stumbled for a moment, trying to bring her to her wife.

Pete reached her first, ripping the letter opener from her hand and throwing it somewhere to his left. His big hands covered her arm, trying to stop the blood, but some of it had already begun to seep through his fingers.

“STEVE FETCH MY KIT!” she heard Dr. Calder order, but Myka was having trouble focusing. She just continued to stare at Pete who was swearing angrily at her.

“Myka what were you thinking?” Helena demanded, tears pouring down her face as she grabbed Myka’s face between her hands, forcing the agent to look up at her. “Tell me, why you would do this… Oh god Pete, stop the bleeding. DOCTOR! DOCTOR WHERE ARE YOU!? Look at me Myka, you look at me, why would you do this to yourself?”

Myka shook her head as much as Helena’s tight grip would allow, “It’s not real. It’s not real.”

“Keep your eyes open! Keep them open, Myka! DOCTOR!” Helena’s voice suddenly sounded very far away to the drifting agent.

 _But it isn’t real..._ she continued to argue in her own mind.

* * *

No one heard the alarm emanating from her hospital room, not for about a minute. That’s about the time Claudia Donavan arrived. She was the one who had discovered Myka bleeding out in her hospital bed.

She had hit another dead end in her research. It had been three weeks of absolute shit. And the guilt of it was eating away at her. She had to see Myka. So she left the Warehouse without bothering to tell anyone where she was going.

She spent the elevator ride up allowing herself to fantasize that when she opened the door to Myka’s room, she would find the agent sitting up and smiling at her, demanding to know why she was in a hospital and insisting she be checked out immediately.

What she found instead was blood pouring from the agents arm and pooling around her, the machine keeping track of her vitals beeping away madly.

Claudia dropped her bag to the floor and ran to her side, hands wrapping themselves around the wound, trying to keep what blood Myka had left from escaping.

“DOCTOR!” she screamed over her shoulder, “SOMEBODY! HELP! PLEASE! DOCTOR!” she could taste blood in her mouth from screeching so loudly, but she couldn’t control herself, she was having flashbacks to finding Steve dead in a chair, she couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t handle it and God damn it, where was the doctor?!

Gloved hands pushed hers out of the way, she heard voices shouting orders at one another. She stepped back helplessly, wiping her hands mindlessly on her clothing before pushing her hair out of her face, she felt the tears then, heard the awful choking sounds emanating from her chest.

A man stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the people working over her friend. “I asked you what the hell happened!”

“You’re asking me?” Claudia’s voice dripped with venom, “I should be asking you moron’s what happened! I got here and I hear beeping and Myka’s blood is-is everywhere!”

“Okay, okay,” he placed his hands on her shoulders and began shoving her backwards, Claudia wished vehemently then that she was the bad ass Myka was, then she could break this guy’s arms for trying to make her leave. But she was just a puny tech geek who didn’t even have her tesla with her, “You need to go so the doctors can do their work. Go on.”

He finished shoving her out the door, putting her purse in her hands before going back to the madness still ensuing behind him.

Claudia stumbled in a daze through the hospital, momentarily forgetting the lay out as people shot her side long glances and mistrustful glares. She was, after all, still covered in someone else’s blood.

She didn’t remember getting there, but she was suddenly standing in the middle of the front office of the Warehouse. Pete and Steve were talking intensely about something, arguing from the looks of their body language, when they saw the spaced out agent.

Steve dropped his files and rushed to her, gathering her hands in his and inspecting them closely, “Claud? Claudia are you alright? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, “It’s not mine, Jinksey.”

“Then whose? Whose blood is this Claudia?” He demanded.

Pete hadn’t moved, he felt like his heart stopped, and he knew what Claudia was going to say before she spoke, but his mind was already rejecting the idea, unable to handle anything else going wrong right now.

“Myka… it’s Myka’s.” She said, more tears pouring down her face, leaving clean track marks over the smears of crimson on her cheeks.

Pete rushed her then, grabbing the tops of her arms and shaking her, “What happened? What happened Claudia?” he demanded.

“Let go of her Pete!” Steve barked as he shoved himself between him and his best friend, “Stop, you’ll hurt her.”

Pete looked down at his hands in shock before dropping them. He held his hands up and stumbled backwards. Steven moved to stand between them, his back to Claudia, keeping her hidden from Pete’s view, “Sorry, I don’t know why I… Sorry…”

“I don’t know what happened,” Claudia’s voice was dead, “I got there and the alarms… so much blood…”

“Wha- is she okay?” Pete’s heart fissured a little.

Claudia shrugged, “The doctors were working on her, they made me leave I don’t-“

“I FOUND IT!” Artie’s voice cut her off as he came stumbling into the room, his glasses skewed and a small index card gripped tightly in his sweaty hands, “I know what the artifact is!”


	6. Real Life Aplications

If you try and look back at every one who thought they were mildly important in life, and even some who weren’t, you look at philosophers and physicists, priests and atheists, they all have something to say about our reality. Our shared reality or our personal realities. We tend to categorize things into one of two things: reality and fantasy.

If something is solid, tangible, has proofs and can be experienced and felt, it is considered reality. Everything else we imagine or dream, is fantasy.

The problem is, we can all experience and feel things individually. Without being able to explain to ourselves, much less anyone else, why we love what we do. Why we fear things that aren’t meant to be real and why we hope for the impossible.

Humans are magnificent in their ability to create, imagine and manipulate their surroundings all through the power of a three pound organ situated somewhere between their ears.

So we must then accept that each individual creates his or her own reality. The way we think and feel shapes the way we see things. We project on to our world parts of ourselves. And if each person is unique, everyone containing an individual soul, there are infinite possibilities for there to simultaneously exist an infinite number of realities.

That’s pretty damn cool when you think about it. You can change your world just by imagining a better one, by striving to make your fantasy into your reality.

But there are those still who are, while not content, at least resigned to the reality the world tells them to accept. They willingly go on keeping their heads down, on the outside they are conforming to the norm. But on the inside, they have an escape. They can live a whole life inside their head without bothering to think of the improbability of such situations.

This is both beautiful and dangerous, because people can be trapped by their own realities, refuse to resurface, not realizing they are so detrimental to other’s realities.

“You found it?” Pete felt the first fluttering of hope fill his chest, it was dizzying.

Artie huffed, trying to fix his glasses as he nearly tripped over his own feet, “I found the artifact,” he repeated himself, “Well not _the_ artifact itself. But I know what it is! We can track-track it if… we… Claudia, whose blood is that?”

“Myka’s,” Pete answered for her, “We have to get to the hospital, you can catch us up on the ride over.”

“My-Myka’s?” Artie stammered, “Yes of course, what are we waiting for? What happened?”

Claudia told her short story yet again, still holding no emotion in her words. She was afraid to hope, to feel anything. She didn’t know what happened to Myka, if they were able to stop the bleeding… and even if they did, she had lost so much already. No she wouldn’t allow herself to hope for anything until they saw her once more.”

“My best guess,” Artie told the car full of agents as Pete went almost twice the speed limit, “Is that she was read one of William James manuscripts.”

“Who’s William James?” Steve asked from the back seat. He kept one arm tightly wrapped around Claudia’s shoulders and the other raised so he could grip the handle above the door. He was sure it would be a small miracle in itself if they made it to the hospital in one piece.

“William James,” Artie said in that all knowing, eternal professor tone he had, “Was a nineteenth century psychologist and philosopher. The father of psychology in America.”

“He’s the one who coined the term ‘multiverse’,” Claudia added, looking around the car, seeming to search for something. By the look Steve saw I her eyes, she hadn’t found it.

“Precisely,” Artie gave her a brief smile, he worried deeply for the young woman who had become almost like a daughter to him, “He suffered from severe depression, and dreamed of alternate realities that could exist which were better than his own.”

“So did we have the manuscript at the Warehouse?” Pete asked, swerving to avoid rear-ending a car that wasn’t going fast enough for his liking.

“No,” Artie shook his head, “The manuscript was retrieved by one of our agents in 1912 and we thought it was lost in the fire that burned down the first Warehouse 13.”

“Okay, how did these guys get it then?” Pete demanded as he threw the car into park and began getting out.

“That,” mused Artie, “Is the question.”

When the four agents were in Myka’s hospital room once more, they found someone waiting for them already. Artie blushed slightly as he unconsciously fixed his shirt. Usually this action would have caused some snide comment from Claudia, but she was too busy trying not to cry with relief of what she was seeing.

Myka was pale, but alive. The machines had returned to their normal beeping pace and the doctors had set her up to transfuse her with more blood. She now sported a new wrap on her wrist, but only the edges showed, since she also how had restrains tying her arms to the railings.

“They tell me it was self-inflicted.” Dr. Calder said by way of explanation when Claudia’s fingers brushed over them. It hurt to see her friend in such a state, knowing all too well what it was liked to be strapped down to a gurney.

“How?” Pete stood on the opposite side of the bed now, eyes glued to his partner, “That’s not even possible, she is in a coma.”

Vanessa shook her head, “They can’t even figure out what she would have used, but it follows the pattern showing someone who did it to themselves.”

“Well, the doctors may not be able to explain how she did it,” Artie said solemnly, “but I might be able to. The artifact I was telling you about.”

“William James’ Manuscript?” Jinks supplied, seeing that the other two agents had eyes only for Agent Bering.

“Yes, the manuscript,” he retrieved the index card from inside his coat, “The original manuscript is much different from the version that ultimately was published. When Dr. James would read his own words, it would cause him to have only good dreams, all about a world he thought happier than this one. But now, if someone reads it, whoever they are reading it to will be forced into a slumber from which they cannot be woken from. Trapped by their happiest version of their reality.”

“Well that doesn’t sound so bad…” Claudia sighed, “I mean she can’t wake up, but what’s the down side?”

“Whatever happens to Myka in her dream world will affect her physical body.”

“That explains the nail marks digging a quarter inch into her palm,” Dr. Calder nodded, “Her sudden drop in temperature, how her heart rate and respiration sometimes inexplicably increase.”

“But why would Myka slice her own arm up?” Pete interrupted, “She wouldn’t ever do that to herself.”

“Wouldn’t she, though?” Artie challenged, “If she thought she were asleep and needed to wake up, what do you think she would be willing to do?”

“But it’s supposed to be a happy place, isn’t it?” Claudia interjected.

“Yes, but it would still drive her mad, knowing nothing was real,” Artie removed his glasses from his face and began cleaning his lenses with the end of his shirt, “Our Myka is a realist. Being trapped in her own perfect reality may not be as perfect as it seems. You’ll remember that she was the first to pass the soul test in Warehouse 2.”

“So, she did this to herself? Trying to wake up?” Pete asked, “So she knows she’s in a dream then.”

“Yes, but the effects of the artifact will cause her mind to try and keep her trapped there forever. It’ll convince her anyway she can. And if she gives into the fantasy or kills herself trying not to before we get the manuscript back, she’ll be lost forever.”

“Either way,” Dr. Calder interrupted quietly, “We are running out of time. This isn’t a normal coma. She’s starting to deteriorate faster than other comatose patients I’ve seen.”

“How long does she have?” Jinks asked the question they were all thinking.

“It’s tough to say, it depends on a number of factors, and whether or not she is going to pull another stunt like that…”

“How long?” Pete demanded louder.

“A week? Maybe more, maybe less.” Vanessa shook her head sadly, “I can try and get you a little more time, but I don’t know how much more I can do. I’ll start by hooking her up to an EEG machine, monitor her brainwaves, maybe we can find a way to slow it down in there… I don’t know, it’s not like there is a medical journal written on the effects of artifacts on the human brain.”

“Good,” Artie nodded, “You do that. Now that we know what it is we are looking for, we can head back to the warehouse, get the football and see if it has anything on the manuscript and where it might be.”

He didn’t push the agents into leaving right away, not that he would have been able to pry Pete from Myka’s side at the moment. But he didn’t even try, he could sense that they all needed this moment to remember who they were fighting for, not that they could forget. But now they had a sense of direction in their quest to saving Myka from her own mind.

Claudia excused herself from the room while everyone was still quiet, mumbling about the need to wash blood off of her. But that’s all it really was, an excuse.

She needed a reason to be alone, to get away from prying ears because at least one person in that room would be beyond pissed if they knew what Claudia was really going to do. And that was make a phone call.

HG and Claudia were never terribly close. They had the bond over both being tech geniuses, but that’s about as far as their relationship went, friends who could talk about their work without dumbing themselves down so as to be understood.

But that wasn’t the point.

Claudia knew how Myka felt about HG, and vice versa. She had seen the connection, could practically feel the electricity between the two women. And despite what some people might think, and despite all the shit they had been through, HG deserved to be kept in the loop on how Myka was doing.

And, deep down, Claudia knew that if something drastic needed to be done to save their friend, HG was the woman to do it. So that’s why she ducked into the bathroom stall and pulled out her cell phone, dialing the last known number registered to Emily Lake that she had dredged out of the Warehouse files three weeks ago.

“Please excuse me a moment to answer this,” Helena smiled to excuse herself.

The phone in her hand hadn’t rung in nearly a month. The only reason she hadn’t burned the cell was because she wanted Claudia to be able to reach her again should she need to. She had been waiting all this time for her to call again, being sure the phone kept its charge and never letting it out of her sight.

“Hello?” she asked pleasantly, putting one finger in her ear so she could hear better over the background noise.

“HG?” Claudia’s voice whispered conspiratorially, “It’s Claudia.”

“Yes, darling I know, has something happened with Myka, is she all right?” The inventor couldn’t stop the worry from slipping into her tone, no matter how badly she had wanted to remain flippant in front of present company.

“No, HG, I’d say she’s pretty freakin’ not all right,” Claudia couldn’t keep the bite from her tone, apparently, with the return of her emotions, anger and annoyance came first. She mused that perhaps they returned in alphabetical order. That was pretty organized of them.

“What is it?” Helena asked, fearing the worst while steeling her resolve to do what needed to be done.

“We figured out which artifact is effecting Myka,” she spoke quickly, but clearly, obviously under some sort of time restraint, and HG figured that Claudia wasn’t exactly supposed to be helping her, “Some depressed doctor guy, William James. His manuscript is keeping her trapped in a land of rainbows and sun shine or some such crap. But, get this, Myka being, well Myka, isn’t having it. She apparently tried to wake herself up by taking a knife to herself. She’s lost a lot of blood, but the doctors have got her stable now. We need to find that manuscript, HG, before Myka tries something like that again or is lost to her own mind forever.”

“Right,” HG felt her heart turn in her chest, her teeth ached from the pressure of her jaw, “Thank you for the update, Claud. I have to go now.”

Helena turned back around, “Sorry about that, old friend of mine calling to check in.”

She walked slowly back to the middle of the room, keeping her eyes on the man whose face was getting redder by the minute, “Now what can you tell me about William James’ Manuscript, hm?”

Even upside down she saw the flicker of emotion on the man’s face, shock and fear.

She had been questioning him for near an hour, and it was the first time he showed any sign of cracking.

Some part of her kept whispering that what she was doing was wrong, but it didn’t stop her.

She had gone to Alaska, tracked down one of the men who had been there the night Pete and Myka raided the barn. It wasn’t that difficult once she realized one of the sheriffs deputies, an Officer Reynolds, had been on the men’s payroll. Then it was a matter of putting the right amount of pressure in the right places. The deputy had been more than willing to tell her where the men had escaped to.

The only problem was that when HG arrived, only one man was to be found, and no artifacts. So she did the next logical thing she could think of. She hit the man over the head with a lamp and brought his unconscious body back to where this all began, that wretched barn he was so attached to.

She strung him up from the rafters by his ankles, had woken him up with a bucket of freezing water to his face. He had complained about pneumonia, and she kindly invited him to sod off accompanied by a punch to the gut.

It seemed no matter what question she asked him, all he had was a snarky response. She was quickly growing tired of the game and produced a rather sharp knife from her boot and held it to his face.

“You won’t kill me.” He said, though the fear was evident in his eyes, “You’ll never find all the artifacts if you do.”

“I have ways of using this knife without actually killing you,” the way she said it, so sweetly and with a smile, that’s when the man began to understand the situation he was in, “For instance, how attached are you to, let’s say, your left ear? Or perhaps the tip of your nose? Who really needs both eyes anyway?” she seemed intent on using the knife no matter what he said to her, so he thanked God when the phone in her pocket rang and distracted her for the moment.

But now looking at her, he felt bile begin to raise- or was it fall seeing as he was upside down? Either way, there was an awful taste in his mouth and he could see the tendons in her hands quiver with how tightly she was holding the knife now.

“The manuscript, Dominic, tell me what you know about it, or I swear to God I will relieve you of your man hood.” She shouted stepping closer to the defenseless man.

“I don’t know where it is!” he insisted, bringing his hands up pleadingly in front of him.

“I am giving you three seconds to tell me something useful.” She pointed the knife at him, following the tip of his nose as he began to sway uselessly side to side, “One…”

“Please!” he screamed at her, eyes trained on the glinting steel.

“Two…” Helena was unmoved by his begging, she gripped his belt buckle.

“I don’t know where the manuscript is, please don’t do this! I can’t help you, I don’t know where it is!” he began to sob uncontrollably, snot dripping into his eyes, into his hair.

“You’re right.” Her sudden dead tone terrified him more than the counting, “You are useless to me.” She pulled the gun from the back of her belt and cocked it, pushing the barrel into his open mouth and resting her finger on the trigger.

But the action seemed to wake something inside her. A memory two years old. Facing off with Myka in Yellow Stone, National Park. She held the Minoan Trident in one hand, a gun forced into her other by the green eyed agent before her.

Shock and disgust filled her as Myka lifted her hand until the barrel was pressed to her forehead. She couldn’t kill Myka, and that realization is what had her throwing the trident to the floor and willingly going with the regents. The world could simply not exist, in Helena’s mind at least, without Myla Bering.

She couldn’t pull the trigger then, because she loved Myka. And she couldn’t pull the trigger now for the same reason. She couldn’t go back to who she was before, ever so willing to kill whomever it took to accomplish her goal. Even if it meant saving Myka, because the woman had changed her on a fundamental level.

It was then that she realized the man hanging upside down was sobbing and trying desperately to mumble something around the gun, blubbering like a baby.

“I’m sorry,” HG apologized facetiously, “I didn’t catch that, would you mind repeating that for me?”

“Please. Don’t. Kill. Me.” He hiccupped, and it disgusted Helena to the point where she nearly put the gun in his mouth once more, “No, no, I don’t know where the manuscript is, but I know my partner. I can help you find him.”

“Brilliant.” She smiled brightly, “Where is he then?”

The man shook his head, some of his bravado and confidence returning, “Only if you take me to your boss. Back to the Warehouse, I want to know you won’t just kill me when this is all over.”

Helena quirked an eyebrow, “It may be a bit premature in our relationship to ask, but how do you feel about handcuffs?” she asked as she pulled out a pair of seriously modified looking handcuffs.

The man sighed in relief, his heart rate calming some.

“Do not mistake me, Dominic,” Helena growled once more as she cut him down, enjoying the heavy thud of his body hitting the ground. She strode towards him, putting her boot to his throat when he flipped to his back, “If Agent Bering dies, I will have no further qualms about killing you. Remember that, if she dies, you die.”

* * *

That’s the thing about being detrimental to someone’s reality. If you’re not there, they are likely to do the most irrational things to get you back. They don’t think things through or plan beyond the next step. You can only hope then, that you were such an impact in their life that you continue to effect it for the better even if you are no longer there.

Myka was thinking about how she effected the people in her life as Helena drove them to Leena’s. She learned from Pete that they had acquired another B&B in town.

He had told her through clenched teeth while refusing to make eye contact. He watched the doctor work over Myka. He watched as she cleaned and put antiseptic on the four and a half inch laceration. He looked away briefly as she had sewn her up with 23 stitches, stomach turning slightly at the sight. And after, when Myka was still a little loopy from blood loss, asked him where Leena was.

Helena, on the other hand, had taken her eyes off her wife as little as possible. The last time she did, she reasoned, she had tried to kill herself. She announced to the others that she was taking Myka to get their kids and go home. The rest were to stay behind and find the artifact responsible for this. She was unwilling to believe her Myka would ever do such a thing to herself.

She wanted to get her back to familiar surroundings, she wanted to spark a memory that would lead to a chain of memories… she wanted her wife back more than anything. She wished she could go back to a few hours before. When Myka was laughing and refusing to show HG what she held behind her back.

“It’s a surprise,” she winked before disappearing into the bathroom.

Now it seemed she couldn’t even look at her. And all this talk about the destruction of the world and half of their friends being dead… she was worried she was losing her wife forever. She had to do whatever it took to keep her.

Myka felt her watching her the whole way home. Once upon a time, it would have thrilled her to have HG’s attention for any amount of time. But not now, not with that look I her eye, like Myka was insane. But mostly she didn’t care. She felt more lost now than she did before.

It hadn’t worked. She was supposed to wake up, not almost bleed to death. What kind of dream was this? She was beginning to question if she was dreaming at all… maybe this was real and she was wrong. Myka rejected the idea. She clung still to her belief that this couldn’t possibly be real.

When they arrived at the B&B, it shocked Myka how similar it looked to the Leena’s place back in Univille. Not exactly the same of course, but it still had that welcoming feel about it, drawing her in and offering safety and comfort.

Helena didn’t say a word, just got out of her car, and walked around to help Myka out, allowing her to lean heavily on her as they trudged through the unshoveled snow, up the walk to the blue painted door.

As soon as the door was open, and Myla stepped into the warmth of the B&B, she heard scrambling coming from another room of the house. She immediately tensed, causing Helena to stop walking in the middle to the hall way.

Christina came bounding from around the corner with a heavy sigh of relief.

“Mom,” the breathed, gathering Myka into a tight hug, “You’re all right, I was so worried after what was happening…. What happened to your arm?” she pulled back, looking skeptically down at the bandages.

Helena gently pulled her daughter from the embrace, “Darling, mom is still not… feeling just right. Could you go ask Leena to come here please? Just Leena.” She clarified with a level gaze.

She did as she was asked, leaving the women to silence, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Myka looked at Helena with a tear filled gaze, “It’s how I would have imagined her…”

“You don’t have to imagine her, love,” Helena took both of Myka’s hands in hers, looking at Myka with those dark eyes of hers, “She’s here. She’s real, you do not need to imagine her.”

Myka wanted to believe her, but she just couldn’t. Not when she knew in her heart it wasn’t so.

“Myka?” a familiar voice called. She looked up to see a befuddled Leena approaching them, “Helena? What’s wrong? Claudia showed up and didn’t know what was happening, Christina told me to come over here and-oh!” she breathed out as Myka rush to gather her in a hug.

“You’re alive,” Myka all but sobbed as she pulled Leena in tighter, burying her nose into the curls of the other woman, “You’re actually here.”

“Yeah, I’m here, what’s going on?” Leena pulled away. “You’re aura is all… weird. Confused.”

“Myka is,” Helena began, but the problem was she didn’t know how to continue. How are you supposed to tell someone that a person they love has lost all their memories, invented fake ones which include your death?

Leena sensed that something was terribly wrong, but she could ask what, because that’s the moment Claudia decided to walk in holding the baby.

He was whining a little, but seemed more interested in playing with Claudia’s necklace than anything. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles and was wearing an adorable red sleeper, “Look, Moms, I love your kid, but I can’t deal with whiny this late at night with no coffee.” She explained.

Myka felt like her heart stopped, she gripped the front of her shirt just to feel it and be sure it didn’t. Fear incased her whole body. Longing tore her in different directions. Part of her wanted to turn and run before she got any closer to the baby in the redhead’s arms, but another part of her wanted to move forward, her baser instincts driving her to care for the infant. Instead she was rooted in place.

“Oh, he’s just hungry,” Leena smiled at the young agent, “Give him here, I’ll make him a bottle.”

“No,” Helena put an arm on the B&B owner’s arm to stop her, “Myka is going to hold Caleb while I go prepare him a bottle.”

Myka shifted her gaze to Helena, showing all the panic she felt with one wide eyed look.

“It’ll be fine.” Helena reassured her.  She turned and moved to Claudia, who, despite her complaining, seemed a bit reluctant to hand the baby over just yet.

“Here ya go, little dude,” She said affectionately, gently removing the necklace from his death grip before passing him over to his mum.

Helena turned and walked back to Myka, and it was as if the whole world was holding its breath. Caleb looked up at his mom with a gum filled smile, green eyes meeting green eyes for the first time. Myka’s frightened expression turned to one of wonder as Caleb cooed when passed to her arms.

Myka worried about how she was holding him, whether she was holding him too tight or not tight enough. Oh god, what if she dropped him? Or what if he really started crying?

But Caleb seemed content to lay back in his mother’s arms and grip the lapel of her jacket, trying to pull it into his mouth. Myka studied his chubby face intently, mostly unaware that she was being lead to sit down in a rocking chair in some other room. The black curls so much darker than her own that clung to his head, noting that he would need a haircut soon, but not wanting to give him one. She touched the dimples in his cheeks that appeared with each smile. At the hue of his eyes that matched almost perfectly her own… she was a goner the second he was placed in her arms, just like she knew she would be.

She still didn’t believe any of it was real? How could it be?

But that suddenly didn’t bother her as much as it should have. She wanted to know this reality now, she wanted to know the small boy in her arms, watch him take his first steps and speak his first words. She wanted to see who she would be to him… she wanted to know who she was to everyone here.


	7. The Story You Wish You Knew

People like to believe that we are born pure an innocent. A baby knows no right from wrong, good from evil. They have not been betrayed or lied to. They have yet to be disillusioned to their parent’s greatness. Children love with their whole heart, because they know no other way. They have a simplistic view on life, with no worries beyond what kind of juice they’ll have at lunch, or whether their best friend would like to play with them that afternoon.

Then, little by little, they grow up. Their trust is chipped away, they find out there is no Santa Claus, their best friend doesn’t say hi to them anymore. They fall down, and instead of getting back up as they used to, they begin to no longer see the point in rising up just to be knocked back down.

Where they once believed in fairytales, magical beasts, heroes and heroines, now they only see smoke and mirrors and lies. They keep trudging along, trying to cling to that sense of wonder about the world they once had. The closest they get to finding it once more, is when they get a child of their own, and witness the laughter light their eyes, the innocent questions that have complicated answers. Then, then they see innocence in the world again, and fight tooth and nail to protect it, all the while knowing it won’t last forever.

Death is the thing that perverts all innocence. Once it has been experienced, there is no turning back to the way things used to work in the world. You now have to ask what your world will be like without that person in it, and you feel all the fantastical futures you dreamed slip away and be replaced by fear.

And yet, we must go on believing that everything, even death, is all worth it in the end.

Myka watched her baby sleep in the crib, now back at her home with Helena tucking Christina in down the hall. She thought about how much this tiny person meant to her, even though she hardly knew him. Even though her brain was insisting he didn’t actually exist, she felt the urge to protect him with her life.

She watched his chest rise and fall, the little jerks of his feet as he slept. When his breaths skipped a beat, she found herself placing her hand on his chest gently, holding her own breath until he resumed.

She left him then, knowing she could spend the whole night watching him, but also knowing she couldn’t handle it much longer. She walked down the hall, tracing her fingers over the mantle with photos propped on it. She found one of her and Helena standing on either side of Christina, at some sort of science fair. She looked happy.

The book shelves in the living room, lined with all the classics, including the ones written by HG’s brother. She felt a smile tug at the edge of her lips as she touched the spines. She must’ve read her copy of Time Machine two hundred times as a girl, with a flashlight under her covers so her parents wouldn’t see the light.

 _But is that even a real memory?_ She felt her smile die on her lips as she thought that. She took the book in her hand, opening to the first chapter.

“ _The Time Traveller,”_ she whispered to herself, “ _(for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter with us…”_

For some reason she found relief in the words she knew by heart. She was so focused on the book in her hands, she hadn’t known Helena approached her from behind, reading over her shoulder and listening to the rise and fall of the agent’s voice.

“ _I do not mean to ask you to accept anything without reasonable ground for it,”_ Helena chuckled as she read from the same page further down, making Myka start slightly, “That is just plain plagiarism, and if Charles were still alive, I would have half a mind to bring a suit against him.”

She pulled back from Myka, not unaware of the woman’s discomfort.

“Did he quote you often?” Myka asked in a light tone as she returned the book back to its proper place.

HG simply shrugged, “I suppose. But we do borrow from our siblings, so I guess I can’t be too cross with him for never mentioning me.”

They fell silent once more as Myka continued her tour around the house, eyes tracing the tokens that proved a happy life. But she felt like a third party observer, walking in a life that felt familiar and foreign all at once. It was a life she could imagine having, but never daring to consciously hope for.

That was the problem she was having with this whole situation. She wanted it to be real, so very badly did she want it to be real. But it was too good to be real.

“You can stop staring at me,” Myka rolled her eyes without turning to face Helena. She could feel the woman’s gaze on the back of her neck. They had circled back around to the living room, and Myka sat on the couch, crossing her bare feet beneath her, “I’m not going to do anything crazy, I learned my lesson.”

“I’m sorry,” HG muttered as she too sat on the couch, with her back leaning on the arm rest so that she faced her wife, “But I am worried about you, Myka. For God’s sake, you tried to kill yourself.”

“I tried to wake up.” Myka corrected, clenching her jaw.

“You still think this is a dream?” Helena sounded angry, but she put a taper on it, trying to keep her voice low so as not to wake the kids, “And you think you’re going to wake up as someone else, somewhere else where I’m with some person named Nate?”

Myka didn’t realize she started to tear up, until a salty drop fell to her ankle. She kept her face down, hair curtaining her face, studying the fringe of her pants with more intensity than strictly necessary. But HG knew better, she leaned forward, brushing the long locks behind her ear, fingertips caressing her face lightly for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I just cannot fathom a reality in which we are not together.” She spoke softly before pulling back to her side of the sofa.

Myka looked around her, at the photos adorning the walls once more, the dog laying in the corner, lazy brown eyes watching his owners, at the baby bouncer and the pile of school books. Curiosity and wonder sparked in her.

“I don’t remember…” she looked up at HG, showing the first bit of vulnerability all night, “I don’t remember our life together. Will you tell me?”

The inventor’s dark eyes studied her for a moment, “What would you like to know?”

“From the beginning,” she turned to mimic the other woman’s posture, pulling her knees up to her chest, watching Helena closely with those beautiful green eyes that always seemed to see more than everyone else, “When we first met.”

Helena smirked, “You read the manual.”

“Of course I did.” She rolled her eyes, “I’m not Pete.”

“And you got curious as to why there were no records of the bronzer written in the manual. So, you kept digging in to it until you finally came across my name. You read my file, though you never explained how you came to find it, and you pestered the regents until they debronzed me. You were so excited when you met me,” her eyes sparkled, “Here I was stumbling around, trying to get used to walking again and trying to get somebody to debronze Christina, and this beautiful woman was practically jumping up and down. I believe Claudia called it ‘fangirling’?”

“That’s embarrassing,” Myka groaned into her legs, scratching the back of her neck as she felt the heat spread over her face.

“It was adorable,” Helena assured her with a small chuckle, “You didn’t realize how distracting your presence was to me all the time. At the hospital with Christina, the way you told off the doctors and nurses who tried to question me. Then around the Warehouse, watching you put that amazing mind of yours to work… I never stood a chance. I wouldn’t have ever had the nerve to ask you on a date if it weren’t for Peter, so I suppose I can’t dislike him so much.”

“Oh?” the taller woman lifted her head back up, town quizzical, “And how did Pete manage to get you to ask me out?”

“He was having a laugh at your expense,” Helena’s eyes flashed at the thought, “Though you seemed to be taking it good naturedly, and I see now that’s just how you two function, but at the time it struck me oddly and made me indignant. Something about not having a date in over a year, while even Claudia had managed to find a boyfriend. I told him it was untrue and that you had a date scheduled with me for that Friday.”

Myka snorted, “And how did Pete react to that?”

“With a gaping jaw followed by what I’m sure were several terrible innuendos that, thank God, went over my head. More importantly, I was mortified at my own forwardness. I hadn’t thought it through, and I had never expected that you would actually agree to go with me.”

“Where did you take me?” she turned her head to rest on the back of the couch, enjoying the look Helena got in her dark eyes when she told a story.

Helena told her about the small book store, where they bought their first book in their shared collection of classics, about the Italian restaurant and staying out later than they thought, walking through the streets and discussing everything that crossed their minds. How Myka had been the first to intertwine their fingers together, and the jolt of pure happiness it had sent to the Victorian agent’s heart.

She went on to tell her how enamored Christina had become with her. How her eyes would light up when Myka read her stories, helped her acclimate to this century, assisted with her homework, though she never really needed it. She just enjoyed the attention.

She went to tell her about their trip to California, to retrieve an artifact. How difficult that case had been, the deaths that she had struggled to desperately to prevent. The balance of strength and soft heartedness, of beauty and intelligence, determination, ambition and stubbornness… it lead to the spontaneous proposal on Helena’s part. She had wanted to ask her for a long time, never seeming to find the perfect moment to do so. And it was when they walked along the beach, after Myka had spent her anger yelling at the ocean, that Helena turned to her suddenly and blurted out that she wanted to marry her. Of course, they couldn’t get married for a while. It was still near impossible in the states. But that hadn’t kept them from treating their relationship as a marriage.

“What about Caleb?” Myka asked after a brief lull in Helena’s story.

At some point, as they always did. The woman gravitated toward each other, so that now, they were leaning toward each other, no longer on opposite ends of the couch, but where their knees had met in the middle.

“The way you were with Christina was beautiful, and despite her calling you ‘Mom’ since the moment we told her our plans to wed, I could see the longing in you to have your own child to hold and raise.” Helena sighed heavily, sharing in her wife’s pain, “So we decided, why not go see a doctor, see if it’s even a possibility for us to do invetro, because I could see, though while you were willing to adopt, you really would rather have your own.”

“But they found the cancer.” Myka inferred from HG’s prolonged silence.

“Yes,” She responded as though the word itself caused her pain, “While I was worried for your life, you were so distraught about the baby you had always imagined. That’s when your sister had volunteered to be our surrogate. Then came the deal of choosing your sperm donor,” she rolled her eyes, “We were getting nowhere fast because you were finding it impossible to choose one who met your standards, and if you did, you didn’t trust it. That’s about when Pete volunteered.”

Myka shook her head, “Wait, so you’re telling me Pete is Caleb’s father?”  
  
“Only biologically,” Helena bristled, “He was a difficult choice to argue against. He’s healthy, we have his complete medical records. He fit all of your requirements as well as my own. Everyone was willing to do what it took for your happiness, though Pete seemed too willing…”

Myka thought back to the Dog Tags she and Pete had been sent after, the ones that Pete accidently used to make her pregnant… she didn’t share this memory out loud, since she was sure Helena wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment. That’s when it clicked, she realized what that look on the older agent’s face was.

“You’re jealous of Pete.” Myla smiled slowly.

“What?” HG pulled back, “No don’t be absurd.” She waved her hand.

“No, no, HG I can see it in your face, that’s why you don’t like him,” Myka poked playfully at her, “You’re jealous of Pete! Why is that, huh?” she laughed.

Helena’s face flushed red as she avoided eye contact, “It’s petty, I know, but it bothered me how close you two were. And how he was able to give you something that I couldn’t, namely a baby.”

“Look, Helena,” Myka shook her head, “I love Pete, but I’ve never felt for him the way I feel about you. And Pete may be the one who provided the _stuff,_ ” she waved vaguely, “But you’re the one I want to raise _our_ son with.” She indicated the two of them with her finger.

Helena looked away, still clearly embarrassed at the irrational feeling, but also happy at what Myka had told her.

“Tell me another story,” Myka requested with a yawn as she moved to lay across HG’s lap.

Helena told stories of their shared life until the early hours of dawn, slowly running a hand over Myka’s hair until she fell asleep in her lap, a contented look on her face. The sight warmed a part of Helena’s heart that had grown cold through the night. She began to hope then, that Myka would really return to her as she had been.

While Myka’s final thoughts before drifting off were still firmly in denial of any of this situation being real, she entertained the thought that it could be real. After all, it wasn’t a bad place to be stuck, surrounded by people who loved you, in a world where everything had gone right. Not a bad reality at all.

* * *

Meanwhile, the reality for a man was quickly turning dark under the almost sadistic nature of a slightly psychotic Brit.

“Keep walking forward, we’re almost there,” She ordered him.

The problem was he was handcuffed and blind folded, so he was wary of tripping and falling. HG sighed and clicked a button on the small remote in her hand. Dominic’s body seized under the currents running from his wrists through his whole body.

She would never get tired, it seemed, of causing him pain.

She took no pleasure from it though. It only served as an outlet for her anger now. She was growing more impatient, more anxious by the minute, and the man she held prisoner seemed to be purposely dragging his feet. She preferred when he was unconscious in the car, honestly.

When they reached the end of the umbilicus, she yanked him to a stop by his bound hands, before reaching around him and banging on the heavy metal door. She glanced up to the corner, giving a small wave and a smile to the camera she knew Claudia had put there.

After a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity, there was the sound of protesting metal and the door swung open.

Claudia, looking a little worse for wear if the older agent were honest, stared at her in complete disbelief.

“You hung up on me,” was the first thing she said.

“Hello to you too, Claudia.” HG said before shoving the man forward into the front office.

Claudia stepped back, mostly in confusion, but also because the man that nearly stumbled into her was filthy, smelling of his own sick.

“Uh, HG?” she rose an eyebrow before looking around, “Who the frack is that?”

“This,” she removed the bag from the man’s head, “Is Dominic, I borrowed your handcuffs by the way. They were very handy.” She nodded in appreciation, ignoring the look of horror on young redhead’s face.

Claudia looked to the restraints, “You changed them!” she complained, despite knowing that wasn’t the issue at hand.

“A few minor adjustments, I assure you.” She lead the man to a metal chair, “look, I honestly have no idea what will happen if I hold that button down while you sit in this chair, so keep your mouth shut.” She spoke to the man now,

“What is she doing here?” Pete demanded as he entered from the Warehouse floor, followed by the other two male agents, “Claud, did you let her in here?”

“Oh, bugger off, Agent Lattimer,” HG growled, “You think you’d be more appreciative of the gift I’ve brought you.” She moved out of his line of sight so he could see the beaten man behind her. His nose was bleeding slightly, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut.

“Hey, that’s the guy from the Barn,” Pete snapped his fingers at him, “He’s the guy I cuffed.”

“Fat lot of good that did, I see.” Helena rolled her eyes.

“Wow, what did you do to him?” Steve asked, moving to check the man’s wounds.

“Less then what I wanted to, I assure you.” She handed the remote to the cuffs over to Claudia, suddenly feeling very tired as the warmth of the Warehouse surrounded her.

“How did you find him?” Artie asked, moving so the five agents all stood in a rough half circle around their captured man.

“Does it matter?” Helena crossed her arms, “The point is I found him, and he is going to help us find the artifact, aren’t you, Dominic?”

“She’s crazy,” The man looked to Artie for help, “She was going to kill me!”

“She still will,” HG warned him with a level gaze.

“Thanks, HG, we’ve got it from here,” Pete held a hand up at the Victorian agent, “You’ve done more than enough.”

Helena was about to protest, but Artie beat her to it, “Play nice, Pete. We need her particular skill set and lack of empathy now.”

“Aces,” HG couldn’t help the grin on her face, “Dominic here says he doesn’t know where the artifact is but he knows who has it, and how to find him.”

“Is that so?” Pete asked, staring intently at the man who got away from him in Alaska. He had imagined finding the guy so many times, and now here he was in front of him, and he had HG Wells, of all people, to thank for it.

He was, at least, going to put the anger he felt to good use.

“You’re gonna start talking,” Pete growled at him, leaning in to the chair with both hands on the arm rests, “And you’re gonna start talking now. Otherwise, we are going to accidently leave you alone with Agent Wells over there.”

The man’s eyes darted around the room, fear icing in his veins once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotes in this chapter are from HG Well’s novel the Time Machine. And the cuffs I am referring to are the ones Claudia uses on Artie in the season one episode, Knock, Knock.


	8. Hickory, Dickory, Dock

The choices we make do not define who we are. But they tend to shape how we see ourselves. And good or bad, the decisions you have made brought you to where you are today. Whether that is a good thing or bad thing, it doesn’t really matter. As long as you keep making choices, keep moving forward, there is hope that one day it will all be alright. The only thing worse than making a bad decision, is not making a decision at all.

There are times when you are, if not proud, confident in the validity of every choice you have made in your life. You can remember your reasons for every hard decision, see in hindsight the necessity of some of the questionable things you have done. You are at peace with where these things have brought you in life because you can see the good it created. You can see that all the shit you had to put up with was worth it, and you can sleep soundly.

But sometimes, at three am, or after a bad day, doubt begins to slowly creep into your heart, sending your mind racing and your stomach turning. You lose faith in the world, and more importantly, you lose faith in yourself. You look back and obsess over the things you could have done differently, the things over which you had no control to change. You blame yourself, you blame the world, and you become a whirlwind of anger and sadness, spinning quickly into despair. You being to think yourself into an oblivion.

When you feel as if your body is trying to suffocate itself under the weight of your perceived mistakes, you can only hope you have someone who loves you enough to pull you out. To remind you of who your really are and reassure you of your worth. To stay by your side and have your back when you don’t even know which way to go anymore.

Myka was Helena’s person, mostly unbeknown to the taller agent.

Myka pulled her back from the edge time after time, when it was HG who led them both there to begin with. When her life spun so wildly out of control, it was always Myka who served as her focal point, the peace in the storm, the clarity in the insanity. The only one who could break through the darkness and lead Helena back to safety. Sometimes it was a shared look, a smart ass response, or a light touch.

Granted that her perception of time was thrown off as a result of spending a century trapped in bronze, and again by her time spent as a holographic projection of her personality in the Janis coin, the bond she felt with Myka seemed to transcend space and time. She was always there, always would be, at least she hoped so.

Maybe that was selfish of her, doubly so after leaving Myka so many times. Just using her, as Pete said. But she hadn’t seen it that way until Pete put the thought it her head, where it sat and festered and grew into a dark monster. She never wanted to hurt Myka, it was the last thing she wanted, because to hurt her would be like hurting her own soul. It terrified her how much she loved the other woman, the last person she had loved so completely was murdered. And it had sent HG into a downward spiral that nearly ended the world. She lost so much of herself when she lost her daughter.

 She wouldn’t survive if it happened again, Myka was all that was left of Helena’s humanity.

And that wasn’t something she thought should ever be put on another person. The responsibility of having somebody’s entire existence solely dependent upon your shoulders was more than anyone could bare, so how could she knowingly bestow that upon the person she loved most in the world, perhaps the last person in the world she could love?

That’s part of the reason she kept leaving Myka. She kept hoping that Myka would find her _one._ Her person whom she could love with all of her and wouldn’t have to worry about them losing their mind, of falling apart for what appeared to be no reason other than it was snowing outside, and it reminded her of her lost daughter.

Myka deserved to be with someone who wasn’t so broken.

But it was now quickly becoming evident to all that it was hazardous for HG to live without Myka, not only for her but for the well-being of others as well, if her interrogation techniques were any indication. She had abandoned all her manipulation maneuvers and began using force to get the answers she wanted. And it had worked, but it was a terrifying thing to behold. A woman without anything left to lose but what she is fighting for is a hellish force of nature.

Normally, Pete would have tried to reign her in, reprimand her for the damage she had caused, even if he himself was jealous of not being able to do the very same thing. However, he chose not to comment, because time was running short. It was as if they all could hear the seconds ticking down until it became too late to save Agent Bering. It was deafening, and maddening.

They watched the clock as if the action would somehow slow the hands, they fiddled with their hands and checked their phones, working to keep themselves occupied until they could move the man to a secure facility away from the Warehouse. Mrs. Fredric wanted plausible deniability when the regents discovered what her agents were doing in the name of saving one woman.

They sat in a cement room, nothing inside but a metal chair, a swinging bulb and four people.

“Here’s how it’s gonna work, pal,” Pete growled down at the man chained to the chair, “I’m going to ask you a question, you are going to answer truthfully, or me and Agent Jinks here are going to go on a coffee break and leave you alone with your old friend HG to do with as she pleases. No cameras, and no one around for fifty miles who can hear you scream.”

Steve stood leaning in the corner, facing the man and focusing all his attention on the minute facial expressions, the tone of his voice, searching for the barest hint of deception in him. Dominic looked from the human lie detector, to the English woman, then to Agent Lattimer. He gulped and nodded.

“Who is it you’re working with? The other guy at the barn that my partner chased down?” Pete began.

“His name is Victor, he pulled me into this, told me it was a quick way to make money…” Dominic shook his head, “I owe a lot of money to a lot of people. He promised me when it was all over I’d be able to pay them back with enough left over to buy whatever I wanted.”

Jinks nodded, indicating that it was the truth. Pete turned back to the suspect, “Well, you don’t have to worry about not paying those people back, because they won’t find you if you don’t tell us what we want to know. No one will because my friends and I have a very special way of making people disappear, don’t we, HG?”

“We do in fact, not very pleasant.” She shook her head.

“So tell us, who are you working for?” Pete demanded, puffing his chest out, playing very much the role of the alpha male, working intimidation with his size alone, Helena noticed. There was no more of the giant man child that HG had gotten to know over the years. Before her now, he seemed to have aged ten years, the muscles in his arms more prominent, and no hint of a smile played at the edge of his lips. It seemed with Myka gone, Helena wasn’t the only one walking a path to a darker future.

“I don’t know!” he insisted, eyes wide, “I don’t know who we were working for, I just did as I was told!”

“Well then, I’m afraid I don’t know how to help you, Agent Jinks, are you feeling a bit peckish? I could definitely go for pizza right about now…”

But Jinks knew the man was telling the truth, and didn’t play along, he just stood quietly against the wall, never removing his eyes from Dominic, which was daunting in its own right. It turned out though, that the mere threat of being left alone with the Brit again for any amount of time was enough.

“No, please,” He jerked against his restraints as Pete began to walk away and HG took a menacing step towards him, “I-I swear! I never met anyone else, I only ever dealt with Victor! But-but hey! Wait please! Don’t leave me alone with her again! I-I can tell you where we were supposed to meet! Yeah, I bet you, I bet you Victor knows the higher ups! He can tell you!”

Pete paused and tilted his head, sending a look over to Steve who gave a slight nod, “Alright then, where are you supposed to meet this Victor? And when?”

“Cabo!” he shouted, “The No Where Bar in Cabo, I am supposed to meet him there Friday for a payment for moving some, uh, stuff for him.”

“It’s Thursday,” he looked to the other agents, feeling their time line shortening considerably.

“It’s not my fault Lady Coo-Coo over there held me hostage for a few days!” he complained, snark reentering his tone, causing Helena’s eyes to tighten around the edges.

“I suppose we should be on our way then,” Helena turned to leave the room, mind already going a million miles an hour, planning how to go about this.

“Wait!” she heard the mad shout, “Wait, you can’t leave me in here!”

“The hell if we can’t,” Pete’s words were followed by the closing of the door, he turned to face the other agents, pulling his cell phone out, “I’ll call my mom, have her send some regents do deal with him. Jinks you call Claudia, catch her and Artie up, make sure she’s ready to leave by the time we are back at the B&B, we might need her in Cabo with us.”

It was when the car reached the Bed and Breakfast that Pete realized HG intended to go with them. He grabbed her arm to gain her attention while Steve bailed out to go collect what they would need.

“What’s the plan here HG?” he demanded incredulously.

“I hadn’t finished thinking one through, I thought you might help me.” She admitted.

“I’m not talking about Cabo, I’m talking about your end game,” he clarified, jaw muscles twitching, showing the inventor just how much he was trying to remain calm, “What are you going to do when Myka wakes up, huh? Just up and leave her again? Free of all guilt and ties to her at last? Leave her to her reckless personality and cancer, not stick around to see which one kills her first?”

“Cancer?” His voice rang loudly in her ears and HG felt her world slip away for a moment, the word was like a punch to the gut as her brain tripped to a stop, “Myka-Myka has _cancer?_ Wha- how much-,” She couldn’t speak, the words always seeming to fail her when she needed them the most.

“Shit,” Pete closed his eyes, realizing his slip, resentment had clouded his judgment, and when he spoke through anger, he couldn’t seem to stop his voice from tumbling over his lips until it was spent, “Right, how could you know that? It’s not like you stuck around to hear the news. I guess it’s not your problem anymore, though.”

“See here, Agent Lattimer,” Helena spoke through gritted teeth, fighting back tears, the one relying on anger now, “Leavening Myka was the hardest decision, and the biggest regret of my life. A mistake I am not going to allow myself to repeat. I am _never_ leaving her side again. Not unless someone kills me first. Even then, who knows, I’m sure there are a couple artifacts I could use to stick around long after that.”

“And what about Nate?” he challenged, not only the woman sitting beside him, but the softening spot he felt growing inside him at the adamancy in her voice.

“He tried to make it work with me,” she sighed, “But we couldn’t.”

“And what?” Pete scoffed, “You think you can just come waltzing back, figuring Myka will just take you back because things didn’t work out playing house with Nate?”

“It wasn’t like that Pete,” She looked out the window, “I realized that I didn’t _want_ to make it work with him. I don’t want to make it work with anyone but Myka. And I procrastinated my return, fearing she would turn me away. I wouldn’t have blamed her, after all I did…”

It wasn’t enough for Pete, in his eyes, it was nowhere near enough to make up for all the damage she had done. But he supposed it was a good place to start.

“I only wish you’d gotten your head out of your ass sooner.” He mumbled, ending the conversation as Steve and Claudia exited the B&B, “And you’re lucky I still need that questionable morality of yours.”

They arrived in San Lucas as dusk was falling. Their plan had fallen together quickly, so they were nearly prepared right off the tarmac. It was only a matter of setting up a surveillance center near the bar, and getting Helena ready to play her part.

Pete didn’t want to go in the bar, he had been avoiding them since New Orleans, so it was up to HG to get Victor out of the crowded bar and away from prying eyes.

“Look,” Pete told her as they scrambled around their hotel room that served as home base, “We have to wait until the right time to nab him. There are too many witnesses and we are too far out of our jurisdiction. It’s your job to lure him away from the bar, I’ll be waiting outside with the van to take him.”

“Thanks, I think I know how to pick a guy up, Pete,” She shouted through the bathroom door where she had disappeared to put on one of her more provocative outfits.

“The alcohol and party atmosphere should help.” He offered with an eye roll for the benefit of the not-so-inconspicuously eavesdropping Steve and Claudia.

“If memory serves right,” Helena said as she pulled back the door, “I didn’t seem to need any alcohol to seduce you in London while you were ransacking my home.”

Pete’s come back died on his lips as he looked HG up and down appreciatively, he cleared his throat, “Right, yeah. Just don’t get cocky, alright, HG?” he grumbled as he turned away from the woman tapping her high heel clad foot in front of him.

She surveyed the crowded bar, taking in a breath that tasted of stale beer and desperation, she could feel every eye on her, and she put on a devilish grin as she wound her way to the bar, ignoring the wandering hands of strangers as she did so.

“That’s him, HG,” Pete’s voice whispered in her ear, “Your two o’clock, black shirt and fedora.”

Her eyes narrowed in on her prey as she stumbled to the space beside him, leaning into the bar in a way that revealed far more cleavage than was probably necessary, “Bar keep!” she laughed a bit drunkenly, waving her hand to the man behind the counter.

“What can I do you for, gorgeous?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, I would like a Screaming Orgasm,” she dipped her voice lower and gave a wink.

“Wouldn’t we all?” the man beside her asked, turning to give her his full attention.

“Coming right up,” the bartender assured her.

“This may be a bit forward of me,” Victor leaned in closer to Helena as he spoke, eyes raking slowly over her barely covered body, “But you are by far the most stunning person in this joint.”

“You don’t say?” Helena smiled slowly at him.

“I do,” he held his hand out to her, “The name’s Victor.”

“Emily,” she returned his and shake, which lasted a bit longer than it should have, especially when his eyes were glued to her breasts and not her face, “And I appreciate forwardness, a man who knows what he wants and goes after it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled in what HG supposed was meant to be alluring, but she found revolting.

“So, Victor,” she said as she accepted her drink from the bartender and took a slow drink, “Why have you found yourself in here tonight.”

“I was waiting for a friend,” he admitted, “But I’m more than happy with my present company.”

HG gave a small chuckle and Pete suppressed the urge to gag. Helena really was an amazing actress, which concerned him quite a bit. She could lie so easily, so fluently, that after a few moments, she had Victor willing to leave the bar with her. Of course, he supposed, the tight clothes and plunging neck line hadn’t hurt the situation. He could only imagine what trouble she could get into if she really put her mind to it.

They stumbled out to the street, leaning heavily on one another, though for him it appeared to only be an excuse to grope her. Now, it was Pete’s turn. He exited the van next to the drunk duo, he produced a cloth soaked in chloroform, and Helena spun in front of Victor, causing him to stumble to a stop.

“Is there a problem, babe?” Victor swayed a little on his feet, biting his lip as he gazed at her mouth.

“It’s just, does something smell faintly like chloroform to you?” she tilted her head innocently.

“Wha-?” before he could complete the word, Pete reached around and covered his face. He struggled for a few moments before going limp in Pete’s arms. They looked around to be sure no one had noticed them and breathed easily.

“Really, HG?” he grunted under the man’s weight as he quickly drug him backwards to the idled van, “ _’does something smell like chloroform to you?’”_ he mimicked her accent terribly, “Just had to have a bit of fun, didn’t you?”

“I simply could not resist,” she quirked an eyebrow at him before shuddering, “Can we please get him back to Steven and Claudia now? I feel like I need to take a shower… or twelve.” She ran her hands over her, as if she could physically wipe away the revulsion she felt.

That had been one of the most difficult things for her to do. Not because it was ever hard for her to capture the attention of a horny, drunk male, but because it left her feeling disgusting. And even that didn’t quite cover it. Every word she had spoken to him tasted like poison in her mouth, and she could still feel his hands pawing shamelessly at her body.

She just wanted this to all be over already. To be done playing games and manipulating. To be done running around and running away.

She just wanted to be back with Myka.

* * *

Myka was just waking, feeling pleasantly warm, despite part of her noting that it was winter, and a contented hum was radiating through her.

She was roused by the smell of coffee and bacon, but despite her suddenly ravenous hunger, the familiar smell of Helena’s shampoo kept her where she was, basking in the moment, enjoying their shared body heat.

She remembered she had fallen asleep on the couch to the sound of Helena’s voice as she painted a beautiful past with her words. She now realized she was spooned around the smaller woman, still on the couch, facing away from the room. Their bodies rose and fell in the same rhythm of breaths, and HG had wound her fingers tightly with Myka’s, who had her nose buried in those raven locks of hers.

It was a perfect moment, and Myka couldn’t think of any other way she would rather start her day, but then she woke up and remembered where she was, and doubt and panic settled over her once again.

She sighed, her perfect moment gone, and began to plan out how she would extract herself from the embrace without waking Helena. She removed her fingers from HG’s grip one at a time, then worked on unknotting their legs, softly nudging the backs of her knees until she pulled them away herself. She reached behind her with her free hand, balancing herself on the floor as she carefully rolled away.

As she stood watching HG sleep for a few moments, she had the urge to just give up and curl back up with her once more. But she resisted, instead pulling the blanket off the back of the chair and draping it softly over her.

She tiptoed out of the room, following her nose to the kitchen. She stood, leaning to the wall, not wanting to be noticed yet so that she could observe.

Christina was up, it was still early and she thought it must’ve been some miracle for a teenager to wake up before her parents. She looked like she was ready for school, and she had even gotten Caleb out of bed, he was dressed with his hair combed to the side, babbling to his sister who was responding at the proper points with “Uh huh… oh really? Is that so, little man?”

It was one of the most adorable things she had ever seen.

She saw the tea kettle on the stove and the coffee maker brewing in the corner. There were a few strips of bacon in a skillet as well as some egg whites, and she was cutting up fruit on the counter. When Caleb threw his teething ring at her with an enraged yell, she sighed, but smiled as she retrieved it, rinsed it in the sink and returned it to him.

“You’ve got to keep it down, Caleb,” she scolded softly, “You don’t want to wake Mom up, right?”

She felt warmth spread through her at this act of kindness. Christina had gotten up early so the baby wouldn’t wake them, then started breakfast, put the tea on for her mum and started the coffee for Myka… she was, like, the perfect kid.

“Hey, kiddo,” Myka called softly from where she still stood, startling the teen slightly, “What’s all this?” she indicated the kitchen.

“Sorry, Mom,” She glanced from the food to Caleb then back to Myka, “I wanted to surprise you and Mum, because I know you guys have a lot going on.”

“I thought teenagers were supposed to be all rebellious and selfish?” Myka smiled at her, “But you are just the sweetest kid, ya know that?”

She gathered her stepdaughter in a hug before helping her finish making breakfast and washing the dishes, each taking turns drying them while talking about nothing in particular, but seeming to laugh all the time anyhow.

And when HG hid behind the wall listening to her two favorite girls, she began to cry, the happiness in her heart nearly too much to bare.


	9. Waking Up

There comes a time when you have to accept all the inevitabilities that life seems to throw at us. Just take a moment to consider it. Fate, destiny, a string of random coincidences, or whatever you want to call it, we have been lead to _this_ moment, _this_ day, _this_ place.

Your third grade desk mates played a part, as did your parents, your postman, your friends, your favorite author and the vocalist of that song you love so much. All of these wildly complex individual little worlds in which these people live, have all branched out and intertwined with your own, even if it was for only a brief moment.

People can say the exact right thing at the precise moment you needed it most. Sometimes, the planets align, and all these things which were mere possibility fall into place. That sweet silver lining we begin to chase as we trek through the darkest parts of our souls. We crave the moment in which we can finally rest our weary heads and tired feet in a place safe and secure, surrounded by who and what you love.

We all crave home.

And home isn’t a place or people. It isn’t a house or town. Home is a state of being that starts in your heart and flows through your veins. It’s why you can find home in a soft touch, in the sound of someone’s voice, in familiar scents, or in the sparking eyes of another. Because they hold parts of your soul, your heart, and they can lead you back to where you left it.

Look at our agents.

Peter Latimer met tragedy at a young age. He lost his hero- his father. His mother was distant and secretive. The cultural and language barriers between he and his deaf sister led to her leaving him alone. He tried to build a new home with Amanda, but the pull of the bottle, the ache for the familiar scorching liquid, tore up his hope of home.

Claudia Donavan lost her parents and sister in an accident. Joshua did the best he could to give her a normal life, but all hope of that was gone when he was thought lost in a failed experiment with an artifact. Her life consisted then of being tossed around the system, having only herself to rely on. Add in her time spent institutionalized, it’s no wonder that she is mistrustful and paranoid. Claudia was reunited with her brother, but it was short lived as he left her once more to start his own life.

Steven Jinks lost his best friend and older sister, Olivia, to a stray bullet. A freak accident the blame for which he took upon himself.  He joined ATF to try and alleviate his guilt but found it hard for himself to connect to family, colleges, lovers. It became easier and far less painful if he was alone.

Myka Bering, strained from her father who wanted a son and a mother who found it easier to connect to her sister, finding solace only in the books she read. She worked hard to prove herself in a world where men dominate, and ultimately list her partner, and lover, Sam do to an artifact. She’s left second guessing herself, keeping herself from getting too close to anybody again, lest she get hurt.

And Helena Wells, living in a time where it was more plausible for a time machine to exist than the possibility that a woman thought one up, introduced into a world of endless wonder, only to have lost her daughter through a random act of violence, leaving her cold and critical of a world where such innocence can be tainted.

Each of them, like each of us, has a sob story, a tragedy. We can all only hope that one day we will be brought to a place where we can see that the pain has all been made worth it.

The Warehouse brought together all these broken people who had suffered and fought to survive despite the constant opposing force that is life. They built around them a new life, a new family, a home. But as with all things that are fought and won for, they must be protected and fought for day after day, ever unwilling to allow things to lapse, to fall back to the way it used to be before _this_.

* * *

“I think we can afford to miss one day of school,” Myka looked to Christina, “What do you think? You won’t fall too far behind, will you?”

Christina rolled her eyes, as if that were a possibility with who her mothers were, “What happened to never missing school unless we are deathly ill?” HG challenged.

Myka shrugged, “I think we could use a day off from school and the Warehouse,” she interrupted herself with a fit of fake coughing, and looked to Christina and winked, the teen smiled and joined in, looking pathetically at her Mum.

“See?” Myka rose an eye brow, “I think we are coming down with something, best to skip school today.”

Helena smiled but shook her head in defeat, “And what, pray tell, are we to do with all our free time on this day off from responsibility?”

“I think we need a family day,” the agent thought pensively, “What’s there to do in Kamloops?”

Christina snorted by way of answer, “That’s a good question.”

“Why not get everyone to ditch work for the day?” Helena suggested, “I know Steven and Pete have been working hard, Claudia seems to be up all hours of the day and night, and we practically use Leena as a glorified babysitter.”

“Why not get everyone together for a family day at the B&B?” Myka had a faraway look in her eye that worried Helena, but she came back to quickly with a smile for her wife, “Movies, games, listen to Claudia and Pete argue for old time’s sake?”

“I could show her some code I’ve been working on!” the girl cried happily, before catching the look her Mum was shooting her, “I mean, I know she wanted me to help her beat that new game of hers?” she offered weakly with a smile and puppy dog eyes, “Please, Mum?”

“Yeah, HG, what do ya say?” Myka winked at her.

“Oh all right,” Helena laughed and shook out her dark hair.

“Aces,” Christina cheered, “I’m going to go grab my bag.” She jumped from her seat and placed a kiss on Helena’s cheek.

“Get your brother’s too, will you?” Helena asked, still giving Myka a stern look.

“What?” she asked before popping a strawberry in her mouth.

“Don’t act innocent,” the shorter woman fought not to smile, “Just what do you think you are doing?”

“I was thinking,” Myka spoke to her plate, no longer brave enough to meet those too perceptive brown eyes of hers, “That I would like a good memory.” _Too keep with me,_ she added silently.

Helena couldn’t get a read off of the younger agent, which worried her. Myka had always been easy for her to understand. But this distant, sad Myka, she didn’t recognize. But just as quickly as the dark shadow fell over Myka, it was gone. And the smiles and joking returned with the light in her eyes.

* * *

Victor was good at few things in life. He considered himself a well versed lover and a fantastic thief. Only one of those things were actually true, however no woman has had the bravery to dispute the man who had a violent tendency.

He had no life worse than anyone else who grew up in southern California. He never wanted for anything, his clothes were up to date and always fit properly, there was always food on the table, his parents stayed married and he was the star quarter back of his team. He only started stealing for the rush. The fear and trepidation, the chance of getting caught ran like lightning through his body. But soon, a soda here and a game there no longer held the same effect, and he found himself jonesing for more, dangerous tasks. He moved up to larger items, getting exceptionally good at this little hobby of his. At 32, no family, no job, stealing to pay for hookers and booze, is how someone important found him. Changed his life and trained him to be a better thief, a better manipulator, a killer if need be.

Helena held his file in her hand, looking at the surveillance picture they had scrounged up as well as his mug shot from being busted for solicitation. She felt herself gag as she looked at every vial thing the man sitting on the other side of the two-way mirror had done. She took a drink of her water as she contemplated, trying to wash the taste of alcohol that still seemed to coat her tongue.

“Do you think he knows he has two bastards?” she asked Pete, who stood, arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring at Victor as if he could see him, “A boy and a girl, 10 and 8.”

“Great, add dead beat dad to his list of offenses.” He turned to look at her, “Have you finished reading? Are we ready to go in there?”

“I like being well versed in the person I am trying to get information from,” her eyes flitted over the pages once more, “Saves me from being caught off guard.”

Victor had woken, the room spinning, shadows being thrown around the room from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. He jerked forward, but found his arms chained to the cement floor behind him. He opened his mouth to shout, to demand where he was, but instead of words, vomit was expelled from him. He coughed, choking on the vile, burning liquid.

“That is a common side effect of Chloroform,” Helena and Pete entered the room, both of their noses wrinkling slightly at the stench, both unwilling to show the suspect their disgust, “Apologies.”

“Where the fuck am I?” Victor demanded, jerking once against his restraints, “Huh? You tell me where I am!”

“Calm down, Victor,” Pete spoke calmly as he moved to stand before him, “And watch the language man, there’s a lady present.”

“Fuck her and fuck you!” he spat in Pete’s face.

Pete’s face remained stoic as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket, “I’m gonna let that one go, seeing as you’re having a rough day.”

“I know you,” Victor shifted his gaze to HG, “You’re that British chick from the bar.” He laughed, “Damn, and I thought I was getting lucky.”

“You’re luck has run out pal.” Pete growled, “Do you remember me? The barn? In Anchorage?”

HG could see the precise moment when the memory returned to their prisoner, “You’re that idiot cop. Partners with that brunette bitch right?” he laughed and shook his head.

Pete’s arm snapped forward before he could even process that he was going to punch him.

The man spat blood and what looked like half a tooth out before glaring back up at the agent.

“Good, you remember then,” Pete nodded, “So I’m gonna ask you, where is it? Where is William James’ Manuscript?”

The man laughed, “How much time does your partner have left? Couple of days? She seemed like she would last longer than the bitch I first tested it on.”

Pete swung again, the whole time, keeping his face dead calm, which was quite terrifying when you knew the man, not that Helena would ever tell anyone Pete had done something that frightened her.

“Where’s the manuscript?” Pete asked again.

“I’m not telling you shit, man.” Victor yelled.

“I guess there is honor amongst thieves then?” Pete shot a look to HG, who, so far, was being about as much help as a wet match.

“What about honor amongst cops, huh?” Victor challenged, a smile still playing on his crimson stained mouth.

“I’m not a cop today buddy,” Pete stood so he could grab either side of the chair, “But enough about me, what about you? I hear you got two kids? Davey and Clara?”

Helena was shocked that Pete would use that as leverage. She knew Peter would never harm a child, but the thought that he could still hold another person’s child over them for the sake of an investigation surprised her.

If it were anyone but Myka, she would have protested.

He snorted, “You talking about those missed opportunities for abortions like I give a fuck about them. If I cared about those whores’ kids, I would pay child support! Face it man, you’ve got nothing on me, and you know it. You need to accept the fact that your partner is going to die because you weren’t there to back her up.”

Pete hit him so hard his chair fell back, splashing into the puddle of vomit. But the man kept laughing. The agent moved to continue to beat the man on the floor, but small, surprisingly strong hands stopped him. Helena knew no other person would motivate this man to speak, he was supremely selfish, valuing his own life and pleasures over everything else.

“Perhaps,” HG spoke low, “You should let me have him alone for a few minutes. See if he won’t talk to me, hm?”

Pete’s eyes, so angry and vulnerable, looked into Helena’s. His jaw muscles flared as he nodded.

“Yeah, at least let the pretty one question me!” Victor laughed from the ground.

“Don’t kill him.” Pete mumbled as he brushed past the Brit and headed for the door.

“No promises.” Helena whispered.

Helena placed a foot between the man’s knees, closer to his crotch with her boots than he was comfortable with, and used the leverage to stand his chair back on all fours.

“Now we’re talking,” He grinned at her, “I do like it rough.”

“So I read,” HG nodded, “Was if five or six of your propositions who ended up in the ER after one of your… dates?”

That wiped the smile from his face, “What can I say? Bitches don’t know their place.”

“Right,” Helena nodded, “Well, after all the people I have killed or harmed, I’m sure my place would be a prison of some sort, but they just can’t seem to keep me locked up. I turned around though, I assure you. Met someone who made me a better person.”

“How touching for you.” Victor’s tone turned sardonic.

“It was, the only problem, is she is currently being killed by this manuscript I keep hearing about,” she moved to stand behind Victor, her hands on his shoulders, “Listen, your friend Dominic, he put on quite the show for me as well. It took two hours before he told me anything. But I’ve since given up on retaining my humanity, and we’re, as you so graciously pointed out, under a bit of a time constraint.”

Helena took a breath, not wanting to do what she was about to. She swore she was done. She wanted to be a good person. After all the shit she did, she had so many mistakes to make up for. But it was Myka. And there was very little, Helena supposed, that she wouldn’t do for that frustrating, brilliant, beautiful woman.

“So here’s how this is going to work,” Helena felt herself slip away, now she was just a husk who had nothing left to lose, no one left to fight for, “I am going to break your finger. And then if you do not answer my question, I will break your arm. If that still doesn’t work, I will dislocate your shoulder… break your leg… crack a few ribs… if for some reason you’re still holding out after that, well I do have one of my knives in my boot.”

“I call bull shit lady,” he scoffed, “You, your partner, your dying girlfriend, you can all suck my dick.”

“As you wish.” She gripped his left wrist in her hand, then grasped the ring finger, simultaneously twisted and bent until it gave way with a crack, and Victor’s screams echoed around them.

“Where’s the manuscript?” she asked calmly.

“Fuck you!” he choked out.

“No thank you.” She said simply as she removed one of his cuffs, and pulled his arms up and behind him until a crack radiated through his arm to her hands.

He screamed again, cutting it off with a sob and gritting his teeth together.

“I don’t have time for this, Victor,” she warned, “My knife is seeming like a better option at the moment, so tell me, where is the manuscript?”

“I don’t have it!” he yelled.

“That isn’t what I asked,” she warned as she pulled his other arm out of its socket with a practiced move, feeling an ache grow inside her as each act of violence added to the weight that sat on her shoulders.

“AH FUCK PLEASE STOP!” he begged.

“Then tell me what I want to know, Victor!” she shouted back at him, “Where. Is. The. Manuscript?”

“My boss!” he coughed, “Raleigh Wood, I work for Raleigh Wood. I brought him the Manuscript a week ago.”

“Where does he live?” Helena asked.

“Please, he’ll kill me!” the man began to cry, vision fading from the pain he was in.

Helena took the knife from its hiding place in her boot, “I will kill you, Victor!” she reminded him by pressing the blade to his throat, “Where is he?”

Through the snot and blood pouring from his face, Victor told the agents where to find his employer, and hopefully the man still had possession of the artifact.

HG dropped the knife, her hands suddenly shaky. She quickly strode to the door. She collapsed into Pete, still jerking, unaware of the choked sounds that she was making. It was only Pete’s strong grip that kept her up.

“I’m sorry.” Pete mumbled into her hair, “I’m sorry I made you do that. I’m sorry I blamed you for everything. Victor’s and ass but he’s right, it’s my fault Mykes is where she is. I saw the signs, I was her partner, I should have seen…” he trailed off, taking a shaking breath.

Neither spoke, sharing a moment of comfort between two people both missing a third.

* * *

They began with lunch, Pete showing off how much food he could shove in his mouth which ended with Steve having to do the Heimlich maneuver on him.

They played games, Jenga –which Christina won, Scrabble- that was teamed so it was really Helena playing against Myka and no one really won, and Monopoly- and no one ever wins at Monopoly.

They followed it up with movies, Myka didn’t pay attention to the plot, she instead enjoyed the feel of Helena pressed tightly to her side, the sound of laughter that erupted sporadically, the sense of family.

Dinner was ordered in, pizza because no one wanted to cook. It nearly turned into a food fight between Claudia and Pete. And when Dr. Calder showed up with a tired, but happy looking Artie, Myka sprang to her feet, abandoning her role as peace keeper between the two most immature agents, and gathered him in a tight hug.

She looked around the room full of smiling faces, Leena handing Pete a paper towel, Claudia and Christina arguing, using words Myka didn’t really understand, Vanessa and Artie laughing at a story Jinks was telling them, Helena feeding Caleb, trying to convince him to eat the green mush on the spoon.

One by one they drifted back to the living room where Myka had disappeared to. She had become over whelmed with the sense of all she had lost, and she didn’t want to taint the memory with tears, so she pulled away briefly to collect herself.

She looked at the shelves of books that framed the television. Leena’s collection was not as extensive as hers and Helena’s, but she still managed to stumble over one that she enjoyed. She pulled it down, hand tracing the worn cover.

She carefully opened to the first chapter as she walked around the room, smiling to herself.

“ _It was the best of times_ ,” she read aloud, “ _It was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom. It was the age of foolishness.”_

At the sound of her voice, one by one the others came to the living room. First Helena, then Christina, Pete and Steve, Vanessa and Artie, then Leena holding Caleb.

“ _It was the season of light. It was the season of darkness.”_ She continued, still unaware of her audience, “ _It was the spring of hope. It was the winter of despair. It was the year 1775._ ”

They all moved to sit in the couches, to lay on the floor, enraptured in Myka’s voice, in her retelling of Charles Dickens book. She saw them then, and grew embarrassed.

“No, please, Darling, do go on.” Helena insisted.

“Yeah, Mom, I love it when you read.” Christina plead from her chosen spot on the floor.

“You make the stories sound better.” Pete added form the recliner.

“Oh all right,” Myka mumbled before smiling and continuing. She began nearly monotonous, but as she got comfortable, she grew more animated. Had voices for different characters and did wild things with her hands as she walked about the room.

She enjoyed their memorized faces as she read, and HG enjoyed watching the way her mouth moved over the words.

There was a strange feeling bubbling in the agent as she was surrounded by her family. It nearly took her off guard to realize it was happiness. It had been so long since she felt it. She was content, at peace. There was nothing to worry about and no one to mourn. Everything was as it should be.

She could sense her time here was running out, and this was the memory she wanted to take with her. She needed something happy to look back on even if it wasn’t real. She suddenly wished that she could have more time, wishing this feeling would last longer, wishing that this didn’t have to end and she wouldn’t have to mourn for her friends all over again.

She nearly had tears in her eyes as she read the final lines of the book, “ _It is a far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to now that I have ever known.”_

And as she closed the book and held it close to her heart, she looked around the room full of half-asleep people.

God, she really did not want to give this up.

* * *

It took a day for Pete and Jinks to get to where Raleigh Wood lived. They used less finesse this time, more “tesla him for longer than necessary and ransack his loft”.

Pete could help but think back on the conversation he had with HG before they left.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked when she made no move to get into the car.

She shook out her long hair, “Not this time, Peter. What I did to that man. What I did to Dominic… I can’t allow myself to do that anymore. I have to hold on to what I have left… I just want to go sit with Myka and be there when her eyes open, if that’s alright with you?”

Pete gathered her in another hug, “Sure thing, HG.”

“And don’t listen to what Victor said,” Helena told him as she pulled away, “It’s not your fault Myka was hurt. If anything, it’s Raleigh, and Victor, and Dominic who are to blame.”

He hugged her again, but said nothing else as he got into his SUV and drove away with Steve in the passenger seat. Watching in the mirror as HG’s figure got smaller and smaller. Helena was sickened by what she had done, she felt as if the inky darkness that was constantly trying to take over her soul had gained more footing that day.

They found several artifacts in the man’s home, including William James’ Original Manuscript, as well as a ledger of every artifact he pushed and where they ended up. Pete felt a relief wash over him that was nearly dizzying.

HG sat at Myka’s bed side, holding her hand between hers. Watching her, waiting for the moment when she would reveal those gorgeous green eyes of hers. She lightly touched her injuries, some closer to healing than others. But part of her suspected the worst of the damage was what she couldn’t see. The damage to her psyche, to her heart.

HG’s borrowed Farnsworth rang, jolting her out of her daydreams. She opened it to see Pete’s exited face, grainy and in grey scale.

“We’ve got it HG,” she felt her heart stop, then begin again in double time, the beginnings of hope fluttering in her chest, “We’re putting it in the magic bag now.”

“It’s not magic,” Steve and HG said simultaneously.

Pete gave an eye roll, “Whatever.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Helena said softly, feeling tears on her face once more, “For everything. For doing your best to keep my heart safe.”

She closed the Farnsworth and waited.

* * *

They took the kids back home, trying to stay quiet as to not wake the rest of the B&B.

Myka sighed, the sound filled with contentment, and Helena turned with a blinding smile at the sound of it.

“Come on love,” She intertwined their fingers together, “Not that the cough isn’t comfortable, but I would prefer our bed at the moment.”

The way she said _our bed_ made Myka feel warm and excited, but she knew she had to but a taper on it. As soon as they were alone in their bedroom together, Helena pushed Myka against the door, using their momentum to close it.

Helena began placing slow, warm kisses along Myka’s neck, up to her jaw. The inventor’s hands roamed over the agent’s body torturously. Myka wanted nothing more in that moment to give in. To give into the lust she had felt for the woman in front of her since the moment they met at gun point.

She nearly did, body already responding, but that thought stopped her. Only in her real life did Helena point a gun at her. Only in her real life did she get to witness the transformation in the Victorian agent’s eyes as they got to know one another. There was heart break and betrayal in there somewhere, too. But, she supposed, you had to have a bit of heart break in a true love story.

“Helena, stop,” she finally found her voice, placing her hands on the smaller woman’s shoulders and pushing back slightly.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, but her eyes remained on Myka’s lips as her teeth worried at her own.

“Stop, you’re making it extremely difficult to think straight.” Myka closed her eyes, gathering her last bit of nobility and strength, “I can’t do this, it’s not real. And I want it to be real the first time that I make love to you.”

“You’re still going on about that?” Helena’s voice projected annoyance, and hurt, “I told you everything, we have a whole life together here.”

“And it’s a beautiful story, Helena,” she finally opened her eyes, “But it’s not my story.”

The inventor’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat, her head hanging low. Myka gathered her into a hug and kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent one last time. “I am going to miss you so much.”

“I love you.” HG responded, and the words were a balm on Myka’s aching heart.

“I love you, too.”

A sense of vertigo washed over Myka and she felt as if she might be sick.

She realizes she’s on her back, and there’s an incessant beeping noise coming from somewhere near her head. She opened her eyes slowly to look at the florescent lights above her head, the action much more difficult than she remembered. _Hospital_. She thought, smelling the antiseptic.

She tried to put her hand to her face, a migraine blossoming between her eyes, but found she couldn’t lift it. Her wrists were restrained, and she felt a slim, achingly familiar hand slide around her own. She glance down, panic filling her as she followed the nimble fingers, to the slim wrist, up the alabaster skin of the woman’s arm, until finally Myka found herself staring at the dark eyes she had just said good bye to.

“Helena?” she tried, but her voice cracked.

A look of joy and relief washed over the older agent, tears were streaming down her face, “Myka.” She responded, voice thick with emotion.

At first Myka thought she was still stuck in that other place. But she could see it in those eyes, the years of hurt and pain hidden behind a quick wit and stoicism.

“Are you real?” her voice was weak, but HG could understand her perfectly.

“God I hope so.


	10. Aftermath

In the wake of terrible tragedy lies bitter sweet happiness: laughter tinged with tears, hope echoed by sadness, and a deeper love, whose weight crushes the soul. In this love, hope and laughter we begin to rebuild the tattered remains of our life, but we leave the old walls lying destroyed and undisturbed inside our towers of defense, as a shrine to the true happiness that once was ours.

And this can either offer us strength and hope.

Or it can destroy us.

There were tears, and hugs, but Myka seldom remembered the moments after she woke up.

And despite having been told that she was asleep for 36 days, she was exhausted.

From the moment she opened her eyes to see Helena, sitting at the side of her bed, clutching her hand as if she were afraid without it she would float away, tears streaming down her pale cheeks and a mix drink of sorrow and joy in her dark eyes, Myka felt the seeds of doubt begin to sprout in her.

“What are you doing here?” Myka croaked, trying to sit up but failing miserably, and not just because her arms were still strapped to the railings of the bed.

She felt panic choking her at being held down and defenseless. HG saw the distress of a trapped animal in Myka’s wide eyes and moved to undo the straps holding her captive.

“Damn it!” she swore, more tears falling as she struggled with the leather and metal clasps, her vision was blurry and her hands were shaky, and her fingers would just not cooperate and she was getting frustrated.

Myka’s heart monitor spiked, and her feet began to jerk slightly with the need to run. She didn’t remember getting to the hospital, what had happened? Why was she here? The last she remembered was standing with HG in their bedroom.

“Please, darling, stop struggling, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” the inventor pleaded as she took a deep and calming breath, she swallowed the lump that was lodged in her throat before turning her attention back on the restrains. She got them off quickly.

Myka scrambled backwards, holding her wrists in her hands, staring dumbly at the brace covering her left leg, and at both wraps on her wrists.

“Why was I tied down?” HG could hear the pain in Myka’s voice, causing her own heart to twist painfully.

“You cut yourself, do you remember?” Helena asked slowly, wondering if she should call in a nurse or a doctor to help, but instead she wanted to be selfish for a moment and have the curly haired woman all to herself.

Myka misunderstood the question the artificer was asking, she narrowed her eyes, “For the last time, Helena, I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was trying to wake up!” she snapped.

“Is that why you went in that barn?” Helena’s concern shifted to anger, “Because, if you ask me, anyone who chases down a man on her own in a dark, god forsaken barn in the middle of bloody Alaska, I must question their sanity and will to live!”

“Wait?” Myka’s face fell blank, “You-you believe me?”

“Believe you?” Helena’s brow contorted with confusion, “Darling Claudia called me, you and Pete were on assignment, do you remember that?”

Myka nodded slowly, “Yeah, yeah. What happened, was I hit with an artifact?”

“Yes, a Doctor William James’ Manuscript.” Helena didn’t say more, afraid to ask what had happened in the 36 days her agent was trapped in the labyrinth of her own mind.

“That explains the weird day I had.” She mumbled, no longer looking up but staring at the fringe of the thermal blanket over her.

“Was it only one day?” Helena tried to keep her tone light, not wanting to alert the agent.

Myka’s eyes held so much pain and sorrow when she finally looked up at Helena, “Just one day. One perfect day.”

“Darling,” She rose from where she was sitting and moved to stand closer to Myka, “You were unconscious for over a month.”

She let that information sink in as the younger woman’s eyes grew distant once more, “A month?” her voice rose in pitch.

“Nearly five weeks, actually.” She brushed a stray curl behind her ears, enjoying the soft skin beneath her fingertips for the brief contact.

“So did they…?” she seemed unsure how to finish the question, she was trying her damnedest to live in the present, knowing full well she did not have the strength to look back on her perfect day.

“We caught the men responsible, retrieved a great deal of the artifacts,” HG watched Myla closely, trying to figure out where her mind kept checking out to, “And Steven and Peter just put the manuscript in the static bag. Which is why you’re here now, back with us.”

Myka threw her head back into the wall and looked up, laughing once mirthlessly, “Right, back to reality… Why are you here HG?” Myka shut her eyes tight.

“I came for you, Myka,” she spoke softly, “Claudia called and I came straight away. I worked with Arthur and Steven and Peter to retrieve the artifact.”

“Why?” there was anger in her voice now as she turned her eyes on the Brit.

“What do you mean _why_ , Myka?” Helena pulled back, even though the increased space seemed to physically hurt her.

“You worked so hard to build your perfect life outside of the Warehouse, you didn’t need to come back.” Myka swallowed the bitter taste of the words in her mouth as she pulled on the closed off mask.

“But, Myka, I-,”she tried.

“What I meant,” the agent interrupted, “Was that I didn’t want you to come. You should have stayed with Nate in Wisconsin.

“Darling, you don’t understand,” Helena’s eyes pricked with tears once more, her heart was breaking, or at least what was left of it, reserved for Myka.

“Helena, I want you to leave,” Her eyes were hard as jade as she stared down the woman, her jaw clenched, hands balled in fists, “Please, I need you to leave.”

Helena clutched at her locket, making no move towards the door, the two woman stood, each waiting for the other to break first.

The door opened before that happened, “Squeal of delight!” the tech geek’s voice was thick with emotion as she entered the room, having eyes only for the agent who had become a big sister to her, “You’re awake! It actually worked?”

She fell to the bed, hugging Myka who squinted in pain, but held the young agent closer anyway. Artie was right behind the red head, looking happy, his glasses strangely misted.

He cleared his throat gruffly as he approached the edge of the bed, “Agent Bering, it’s good to see you up right.”

Myka pulled him in for a hug as well, “Yeah, HG was telling me that I was unconscious for over a month?” she rose an eye brow, looking for conformation.

“865 hours actually,” Claudia shrugged, trying to hide the tears in her eyes, and Myka saw a weariness there that hadn’t been there before, the purple shadows beneath her eyes, the fact that it looked as if she had lost some weight in a scary way.

“Jesus, Mykes you scared us,” the redhead cried as she hugged Myka once more.

“You said HG was here?” Artie looked around, “I wanted to thank her…”

It was then the agent noticed that the inventor had left, a pang of sadness tore through her, but she swallowed it, accepting her reality in small doses.

She couldn’t trust this was real with Helena here, it was too perfect. And she couldn’t risk yet another non-goodbye with that woman. The one she dreamed was nearly too much. She wasn’t 100% sure that this place she was in now was real either. It felt real, but, then again, so had the day she just lived.

She stayed in the hospital for another three days, mandatory no matter how much Myka fussed. They still believed she had somehow tried to kill herself while in a coma, and they had to keep her for a psych evaluation and observation. Pete and Claudia took turns with her, never leaving her alone, catching her up on things she missed in the last month, telling her stories, keeping her company.

They didn’t want to admit they were afraid for her. She had this strange look in her eye, and she would go into this trance, that took a bit of yelling to retrieve her from. But she seemed anxious to get home, get on with her life. And she vehemently refused to tell anyone what happened while she was… away. When she screamed at Pete to stop badgering her and back the fuck off, they stopped asking.

She was on what amounted to house arrest. She spent most of her time in her room, reading. Sometimes she would go sit outside and just stare at the leaves. She hated walking around with the crutches she had to use thanks to her fractured leg, but she didn’t complain out loud.

Abigale was constantly trying to get her to talk about her experiences when she was locked in her subconscious, but Myka couldn’t stand the thought of anymore psychobabble bullshit, so she avoided the Warehouse shrink.

One morning, as Myka sat by herself in the garden, Pete joined her. He was quiet for a moment, debating internally how to broach this subject without getting his throat torn out.

“I can’t believe she left.” He spoke, not bothering to mention to whom he was referring, “I mean, after all the shit she did and said to me, I figured she would stick around for a while. I guess she’s always been good at playing me though, right?”

“I told her to leave.” Myka’s voice was flat as she continued to stare into space.

“Why would you do that, Mykes?” Pete’s eyebrows mashed together as his mouth turned down.

“I figured the faster we got it over with, the less painful it would be when she went back to him.” She shrugged.

“Uh, earth to Myka,” he tapped lightly on her temple, pulling his hand back when she made a grab for it, “HG left Nate a long time ago. She was coming back to stay, this time.”

“She left him?” she turned to look at Pete finally, the barest hint of emotion in her eyes returning.

“She didn’t tell you? She was with you at the hospital when you woke up, she was sure of that.” Pete shook his head at his partner’s foolishness.

“I guess I didn’t really give her a chance,” Myka turned back around, mask firmly back in place, “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Pete didn’t know how to deal with this Myka. This impossible to reach woman who would rather sit and stare at nothing all day then let her partner in. As far as Pete was concerned, there was only one person who could reach her now.

Pete left to the Warehouse, leaving Myka all alone in the B&B for the first time in two weeks. She hobbled her way to the kitchen, hoping nobody had found her stash of whiskey in the kitchen. She didn’t drink from it before, out of respect for Pete living under the same roof, and it was far too early to start drinking, but right then, she didn’t care.

She poured a shot and set it on the counter, staring at the amber liquid, knowing this first shot was going to lead to another. And another. And another. Until she couldn’t feel this aching emptiness throbbing inside of her.

She took a breath, and threw down he first shot.

“I don’t care, Claud,” Pete said as he paced the office in the Warehouse, “You found her once before, I’m sure you can again.”

Claudia sat at her desk, watching Pete was making her dizzy, so she looked to the others for help. Jinks was leaning on her desk, hand on the back of his neck, the two resident doctors claimed the couch, their poses identical while the women were so different, and Artie sat in his own office chair, staring carefully at Claudia.

“Pete, you don’t understand, I got lucky!” The red head tapped her fingers quickly on the arm rests, “She kept Emily Lake’s cellphone, and it was easy enough to track.”

“Can’t you do that again?” Pete tried.

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” Claudia’s voice dripped with acid, “Please, Pete, that first day she came back, I tried to call Helena, figure out where she ran off to. The number has been disconnected.”

“It’s prudent that we find Helena,” Abigale interjected, “Agent Wells and Agent Bering have had a very close relationship, and this latest incident of reckless behavior did not deter her from her downward spiral. In fact, it seems to have aggravated it, whatever her experiences were in her mind, she isn’t coping with them. I fear, without someone getting through to her, Myka will truly be lost.”

“How do we find her?” Every one turned to Claudia for answers, but, for once, the young woman had none.

“You could always just ask.” At the sound of Ms. Fredric’s voice, everyone jumped and turned to look where she had appeared behind Pete, “I always know where all my agents are, and the Warehouse seems to be quite fond of Ms. Wells.”

“Well, where is she?” Pete asked, hands open and face pleading.

“I imagine she is on her way to the bed and breakfast.” She smiled knowingly at the baffled agents.

“What? How?” Artie asked, his jaw hanging.

“Ms. Wells never left Univille, and she has been keeping a close eye on Agent Bering, but this is the first time you have all left her alone long enough for Helena to speak with her.” She shook her head at them, as if they were foolish children, but smiling fondly still.

 They looked sheepishly away, “We were afraid she was going to do something to herself.” Steve admitted when no one else would.

“Don’t worry about Agent Bering,” she assured them, “Everything will turn out exactly as it should.”

Helena was good at breaking and entering. Well, it wasn’t really breaking, she supposed, if you could get the lock undone. Unlawful entering, maybe, but this B&B felt like home to her, so she didn’t feel too bad, even though she had sworn off illegal activities.

She tip toed down the hall, she knew no one was here except her and Myka, she just wasn’t sure where to find her. The living room was empty, and the dining room, the kitchen had one knocked over shot glass and a cabinet that was left open, but no Myka.

She heard a thump overhead and moved quickly for the stairs. All the doors were closed, save the very one that lead to Myka’s bedroom, it was left slightly ajar and it was from there that came a low string of curses.

Helena sighed sadly before opening the door.

Myka sat on the edge of her bed, a half empty bottle of whiskey held tightly between two hands. She was staring out the window, a million miles away. More specifically, 1,411 miles away in Kamloops.

If she was honest, sometimes she was still confused. She would wake in a cold sweat and think she needed to go check on Caleb, she would go down stairs and half expect to find Leena in the kitchen, and sometimes, she reached out in her sleep and expected to find a warm body.

She thought she hadn’t allowed herself to give in to the fantasy, but it had originated in her mind, and she still felt the echoes of it in her empty chest. Thanks to the alcohol burning in her stomach and her current indulgence of the way things could have been, she didn’t think anything of the beautiful, raven haired woman standing before her now. She gently removed the bottle of Jack from her hands and placed it somewhere out of her sight. She crouched down so she could look up into Myka’s eyes.

“Myka, darling?” Myka touched HG’s face softly with the tips of her fingers, and while she leaned into the warm touch, she knew Myka wasn’t really there, “Please, darling, come home. Come back to me.” She begged.

After a couple of slow blinks, Myka focused her attention on Helena’s chocolate eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I made a promise that I wasn’t going to leave you ever again, and that is a promise I intend to keep.” HG rose, and stepped back from Myka, sensing her about to explode.

“I thought you’d gone back to Wisconsin? Now that I am back and all, wouldn’t want you hanging out somewhere you didn’t want to be for the sake of your virtue.” Myka growled, “Where did you put my drink?”

“I’ve hidden it away for now, you don’t need it.” Helena spoke sternly, leaving no room for argument, “And for your information, Agent Bering, I left Nate soon after your last visit.”

“Why?” she asked, and Helena could still see the doubt in her eyes.

“Because he wasn’t you.” She admitted in a near whisper, “And I knew I made a mistake, I just didn’t know how to fix it. I couldn’t come back here with half assed apologies and expect you to take me back, not after all I did to you.”

“No,” Myka shook her head, fear returning to her glazed over eyes, “This isn’t real, right? It can’t be…”

“God, Myka, I wish this weren’t real!” Helena ran a hand through her dark hair, “The things I did to get you back…” Myka could see the horror as she relived something that had happened while she was in her coma, “I nearly killed a man, I broke his bones! I hung his partner upside down in a barn and held a gun to his head! I wish I didn’t have to do that… I wish I had returned to you sooner, stopped you from running into that blasted barn! But I was scared, Myka! Terrified that if I didn’t do absolutely everything in my power I was going to lose you. This time for good.”

Myka wanted to give in, to run to HG and hold her, tell her that it was going to be alright, that this memory wouldn’t haunt her forever, but she didn’t move, something held her back, and HG could see the doubt and confusion still there in her eyes.

“Tell me what happened,” HG resumed her position on her knees in front of the woman she had always loved, “Please, tell me what happened that you are so afraid to believe me when I say I want you?”

Tears glistened in both women’s eyes as they stared into one another for an extended moment, Myka took a breath, the last person who she wanted to tell was also the one she felt most compelled to confide in.

“We were married,” she began, and Helena’s eyes widened briefly, weather at the thought of being married to Myka, or her disbelief that she was actually talking to her after she had so firmly shut everyone out, “You and I. We lived in a house in Kamloops.”

“Were is Kamloops?” Helena inquired, eyebrow quirking.

“British Columbia,” Myka looked away briefly, face flushing, “In Canada. God it was so real…”

“It wasn’t real,” Helena repeated firmly, “So tell me anyway.”

“It could have been real,” Pain resurfaced in her eyes, “I wish for your sake it was real. Christina was there.”

“She was?” Helena felt the words leave her as a breath, of course Myka’s perfect world would consist of the one person Helena missed most, which would make her whole again, “What was she like?”

A smile, though still tinged with great sadness, appeared on her face, “She was a teenager, but smart, and beautiful, and exactly like her mom. She worked with Claudia in the warehouse, even though you hated it, she loved it, so you let her keep doing it.”

“Tell me more, who else was there?” Helena prodded.

Myka opened her mouth, then shut it, rethinking what she was going to tell her, “Leena was alive. She ran a B&B in Kamloops.”

“Tell me, why in god’s name were we in Canada?” Helena chuckled through the tears she felt flowing down her face still.

“Artie and Mrs. Fredric had retired,” she explained, “And so I was the new supervisory agent, and Claudia was the caretaker, so we decided to relocate, and we built Warehouse 14. And it was perfect, organized exactly how I would have had it.” She sighed wistfully and Helena smiled, “You were a regent, Pete and Steve retrieved artifacts and everyone was happy.”

“That sounds beautiful,” HG nodded, “But what aren’t you telling me?”

Tears came faster now for Myka, “We had a baby boy, Caleb. He was only eight months old, but he was so amazing, he had my eyes, and these dark curls. Christina adored him and everyone fawned over him.”

“Why does this memory cause you the most pain, love?” Helena knew the answer, but she wanted Myka to be able to tell her.

“Because I can never have it,” she whispered, “I didn’t think I would ever want a baby, and then I found out that I have cancer and all hope went out the window.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” HG asked, “I would have come back to you.”

“I know you would have, but you were so happy with your new life, I didn’t want to pull you away from that because I was selfish.”

“You could never be selfish with me, darling,” Helena reached up and brushed tears from the other woman’s flushed face, “I already belong solely to you.”

A sob was retched from Myka’s chest, and Helena moved to join her on the bed, to hold her head to her chest and let her cry as she ran a hand over her wild curls.

“I know it wasn’t real,” Myka spoke between tears, “I knew it while I was there, and I know that now. So why? Tell me why it hurts so bad having lost it?”

“I know, I know,” HG rocked her slightly, “It hurts the worst to lose the things we could never have. I wish I knew why. I wish I could take your pain away, my love.”

HG hated this feeling in her. It was so hard to watch someone she loved in so much pain. Physical injuries were easy, they healed after enough time, she knew how to alleviate the pain of a bruise, a cut, a broken bone. But this was so far beneath the surface, these scars were seared on to Myka’s heart, and she didn’t know how to balm the burning and twisting feeling she knew she now felt.

“I know that you have lost a great deal,” she began, “More than anyone should, you lost an entire future that was put in front of you. You lived it, love, you lived that day and all the feelings and attachments in it. You lost your family, your son, you lost Leena all over again and Christina,” her voice broke over her daughter’s name, “But I promise you one thing.”

Myka looked expectantly into Helena’s eyes, “What’s that?”

“You haven’t lost me, and you never will again,” Her voice was steady, her hands warm as she cupped Myka’s face between them, “I love you Myka Bering, and I swear to you, I will not leave you.

Myka didn’t think, partially due to the whiskey still thick in her system, but mostly because she was tired of holding herself back form the things she wanted most. And right now, that was the feel of HG’s soft lips moving beneath her own.

At first, Myka tasted like the whiskey she had turned to, but soon she tasted like something else, something pure and good and _Myka_. And HG knew that now that she had a taste of the woman clinging to her, it wasn’t going to be enough. She wanted her, all of her all the time, far beyond the foreseeable future.

The moment their lips met, Myka was finally sure this was real, the electricity she felt at their connecting, the molten heat that spread through her… it was better than she could have ever imagined herself. That’s when it dawned on her. Helena was here, _here_. With her. On her bed. Kissing her.

Helena felt Myka fully give in as she tangled her fingers in to her raven hair that was soft as silk, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, tilting HG back until she fell on top of her.

Lost in the moment, they let hands wander. Helena’s fingers traced over her ribs, memorizing the feel of the soft skin beneath her hands. Myka’s hands traveled from Helena’s hair, tracing lightly over her neck, her shoulder. She moaned into Helena’s mouth when the other woman brushed her fingers over her hips. Her touch was firm and yet soft and it was doing a far better job making Myka forget everything than the whiskey had. She moved her hands down to unbutton Helena’s shirt. She got half way down before HG’s fingers encircled her wrists, stopping their movement.

Helena chuckled softly before rolling, reversing their positions so that Myka was staring up at dark eyes, nearly black with lust. But she could see the war of emotions playing on her face, and she stopped her hands that had begun to trace themselves up HG’s thigh.

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

“We can’t do this yet.” HG balled her fists on her thighs and shut her eyes tightly.

“What? Why not?” Myka’s question almost sounded like a plea, and HG nearly gave in, but the smell of whiskey steeled her resolution.

“Darling, I love you,” Helena gasped, “And there is nothing I want more than to finally give into the want I have for you, to touch and taste you like I should have long ago, but I must stop. I will not have the first time we make love be while you are drunk on whiskey.”

Myka groaned in exasperation, throwing her head into the pillow, “God damn it, I agree with you.” Seeing as now the room was spinning, she knew she would want to remember her time spent with Helena, and a drunk lover wouldn’t make the best first impression.

Helena chuckled and moved to lay beside Myka, the two women turning to look at one another. Fingers absently tracing patterns on the exposed skin of the other, reveling in the feel of finally being this close to one another, after all the shit they had to go through to get here.

Myka smiled suddenly, a blush coloring her face in the loveliest of ways, “You said you loved me.”

Helena smirked, “That I did. And I do love you, Myka Bering.”

“Thank goodness for that, because I love you, Helena Wells.” Tears of joy pricked at her eyes now.

The women fell asleep curled around one another, legs and fingers intertwined, foreheads nearly touching, the breath of each brushing over the face of the other.

And it wasn’t perfect, but it was real, which was far more important to Myka than anything else in the world.


End file.
